


Moment of Choice

by IntrovertedWife



Series: Moments [10]
Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Angst, Antivan Crows, Assassin - Freeform, Assassins, Bear - Freeform, Cullen - Freeform, Dalish, Dysfunctional Family, Elf, Elves, Endgame, F/M, Family Drama, Hunting, Love, Post-Campaign, Romance, Skyhold, Varric - Freeform, decision, war room
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-03
Updated: 2015-10-08
Packaged: 2018-04-18 20:30:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 28,404
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4719407
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IntrovertedWife/pseuds/IntrovertedWife
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Corypheus is dead and all the Inquisitor wants is to spend a few weeks alone with a certain commander, but her entire life diverges with a choice when her clan appears insisting she must return home.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [LadyGoat](https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyGoat/gifts).



He hunched over the war table, the cozy autumn light highlighting those golden rings of hair. Using a bottle from one of the Grey Warden vintages, Cullen debated where to mark something on the big map. No one'd been willing to crack any of the bottles open to have a taste. Not even Dorian nine silk sheets to the wind was willing to try "some tainted swill probably urinated back in the bottle thrice over that you unearthed from the blighted ground." Skyhold was a lot more empty without him.

Silently shutting the massive war room door, I tiptoed towards the commander currently in a debate about whether the Dragon Piss should provide aid to Lydes or Jadar. Cullen started as my arms slipped below his drapery, pulling myself deeper into him. Even through the armor, I felt his warmth and the hints of a body I craved to crack out of it.

"For the Maker's sake, I hope that's you."

"Does someone else sneak up behind you and kiss your neck?" I asked.

"I would not put it past Cole," Cullen jibed, drawing a laugh from me.

I had to stand on my tiptoes to rest my chin upon his shoulder and gaze across the far emptier map before us. Smells of iron, sunlit dust, and that personal musk I found every morning on the pillows wafted from the fur below my chin. Digging even deeper into him, I asked, "What are you doing?"

"Checking." He decided the ale worked best in a small hamlet in Ferelden, and ran his fingers across mine.

"Checking on what? We stopped the demon army, saved the Empire, and - oh yeah - obliterated Corypheus into tiny magistar pieces. Been pretty quiet since."

"There are a few matters still requiring attention. Did you see the report about the rise in bandit activity along the...?"

I squeezed him tighter, cutting off his concern. The commander faded away to reveal just the man below the armor. "Cullen, this is break time. Putting down the sword for a bit and breathing. I think we deserve this vacation."

He twisted in my arms, spinning until he could beam those amber eyes upon me. Josephine still got letters extolling their exquisiteness from the nobles at the Winter palace, as well as comments about that whiskered jawline one could lick for days, and how that ass was poured into our Inquisition finery. She let me read and reply to the really steamy ones.

Cullen gripped onto me, fingers digging into my back. His hugs were never half assed. It was either full on ensnared pulling me into him or nothing. "I quite agree," he said, catching me off guard.

"Really? The commander can put away his duties for a fortnight? Forget all this rebuilding the world stuff and relax? I'll believe it when I see it."

He snorted at my impertinence, then leaned forward for a kiss. I took advantage of the opportunity, lightly sucking upon his bottom lip and entangling our tongues.

"I have been known to relax from time to time," his fingers drifted ever downward as his voice dropped to a whisper, "when there is sufficient cause." The smirk fell away as he glanced back at that map, "But there yet remain a few fires to manage before we depart."

"Like packing?" I asked.

"I've already finished that and..." he paused, searching my face. "Have you not begun?" I shrugged, it was on my to do list right after mauling my commander in the war room. "You know we leave tomorrow, right?"

"Of course, I can do it later. Not as if I need much. An outfit to the seaside villa and one to return in. Maybe a sack to hold souvenirs."

"We'll be gone for two weeks," Cullen said.

"Yes, two weeks of just you, me, surf pounding against an emptied retreat, and no pants." It was a shame those Orlesian poets weren't around to describe the blush strafing his cheeks with a greater might than our army. How many words rhyme with rouge?

"That's, well...I hadn't considered, if you--" his stammer fell into a whisper and I cut the flow off with a kiss.

"See, that's why I'm the one in charge. I've got all the big ideas. You just figure out how to execute them."

Smirking, my commander wrapped his hands under my buttocks and scooped me up. I couldn't stop the giggles as he spun me around to plant me upon the war map, scattering our forces northward. His lips danced across my jaw, down my neck.I don't know which of us growled in anticipation, perhaps both.

My fingers traipsed through those blonde curls, knotting hair and giving just the right tug. It elicited just the sigh I wanted, and I used the moment to make my request.

Catching his eyes, I whispered, "No armor, though."

"What?" he twisted his head to catch up, all the blood in his brain pooling elsewhere.

"On this trip, it - Commander and Inquisitor - stays here. We're just two people with a lot of catching up to do," I enunciated my point by sliding my fingers up his thighs and drumming them just beside the White Spire.

Even then, duty couldn't fully slip away, "What if we're attacked by --?"

"Cullen!"

He tossed his head, accepting defeat gracefully, "As if I could ever refuse you."

"Actually, you have on quite a few occasions --" He leaned into me, pushing me down further onto the map while his fingers began working the first of five hundred buttons down my tunic.

"Ruffles said you might be in here and..." The door to the war room slammed open. "Oh for...Andraste's asscheeks," Varric moaned. Cullen sprang away from me, but kept his back turned to the dwarf shaking his head in the doorway. Not all of him could come unsprung quickly.

"This is why I'm glad I'm heading back to Kirkwall soon," Varric said. But he still chuckled as the Herald of Andraste jumped off her almost defiled war table. "It was bad enough running into Sparkler and Tiny playing subjugate to the Qun."

"We were only..." Cullen began, guiltily glancing at me.

"You don't need to draw me pictures, Curly. I'm sure dozens of smut peddlers across Thedas are way ahead of you."

"What?" Cullen spun around, that terrifying focus that could fell nations back. It was a credit to Varric's resolve that he barely acknowledged it.

"The Herald of Andraste and a fallen templar turned leader of the Inquisition's army? Hard to get more salacious than that. There are probably a few out there that involve you two and a dragon."

"Slaying a dragon?" Cullen asked, eliciting a snort from Varric.

I patted him on the shoulder, happy to leave him to his blissful ignorance. "What's the word, Varric?" I asked.

"Got the marching orders from that massive elf running the coach schedule. I'll be heading out in the morning. Just wanted to get in a few goodbyes in case you're too, um, busy. Seems I got the timing wrong."

"So soon?" I asked, stepping towards him.

"Aveline's been punching her way out of some political bullshit with choir boy and Ostwick playing stabby face with Kirkwall in the middle. She thought I could lend a merc group or two her way. Seemed the time to finally book the boat trip home."

"Nothing like a massive wave of people trying to kill you to provide a warm welcome," Cullen said.

"You were in Kirkwall, Curly. That is our greeting."

I held a hand out to Varric, "I'd try to think of something to get you to stay but it's hard to compete with merchant guilds and prince wars." Varric took my hand in his warm one and clung tight to the fingers. "It's hard to imagine Skyhold without you, Varric."

"It'll be a lot more boring, that's for sure."

"I believe Sera's still running around," Cullen added, getting a chuckle from both Varric and I.

"Great, I leave just as Curly finds himself a sense of humor." Cullen grumbled at the cut, but good-naturedly. Their last hand of Wicked Grace ended better than before, except for Blackwall, who still hadn't been seen outside of his barn loft. "Don't think of this as a goodbye, just a to be continued," Varric said, shaking my hand.

Smiling, I pumped my hand. But that wasn't enough for one of the first people to throw himself into this cause, to fight by my side and never once question if I could handle it. I wrapped my arms around him, pulling him close for a hug. Varric returned it, his hands staying high on my back. He even waved at Cullen to emphasize the point.

As we broke away, Varric said, "If you're ever in Kirkwall be sure to look me up. Unless another demon army falls from the sky. I've had enough of that for a lifetime."

"I think we all have," I said.

Feet clattered down the stone hall and one of the messengers appeared behind Varric. A young elf with mounds of straw colored hair dropping over his eye dipped his head while struggling for a breath. "Ser," he said through pants.

I glanced back at Cullen. It could refer to either of us. The messenger gained his breath and stood tall, "Inquisitor. There's something you should see."

"Oh, what is it?"

"I don't know," his eyes danced from me back to the commander, "I was only ordered by the lookout to fetch you."

I turned back to Cullen, his fingers gripping around his sword's hilt. "Varric?" I asked.

"Bianca's ready as always," he said, patting his crossbow.

Leading the charge, I crossed quickly out of the great hall. A few people milled around in the courtyard just below the stone stairs, but even those stood and pointed at something in the gate to Skyhold. Picking up my steps, the object of contention shifted into view. Purple fabric wafted in the breeze, unpinned from the mast of the land ship trying to wedge its way through the gates.

"What in the Maker's name is that?" Cullen asked behind me. But I knew it.

"It's an aravel." I spun around to the poor kid who still gulped at his first glance of the Dalish. I barely counted to the city elves running around Skyhold, having become as much a part of the chantry as the bowl's of fire. "Were any Dalish scheduled to arrive?"

He couldn't even close his mouth as his head pivoted a no, then a shrug in case it might have all gone over his head. More of the Inquisition jumped to the aravel's aid, shouting out orders and probably getting a glare or three from the elves inside. We didn't like outsiders touching our things. They tended to leave greasy prints behind.

Slowly the ship creaked through, only the occasional crack of wood echoing from the attempt, and rattled to a stop in our now empty courtyard. All the people who had filled it stood behind the aravel, watching expectantly to see who or what was going to exit. They weren't alone. I leaned closer to the edge, wishing I had a spyglass. Someone inside kicked open the door and tossed down the stairs rolled inside. Waving a hand as if testing the air, the occupants began to emerge. From the perch all I could make out were a few elven heads in familiar Dalish armor. Two male, one female, all armed of course, and --

The last of the group stepped out and blood drained from me. I couldn't see the face, or even the body below her massive traveling cloak, but that staff topped with a green crystal carved inside the winding talons of a griffin could only belong to one person.

 _ " _ _Fenedhis lasa!"_ I cursed under my breath, but not so quiet that it didn't draw Cullen's attention. He tossed a questioning look at me, but I held my hand up to dismiss him. Instead, I stomped down the stairs to MY hold like a moping teenager angry that one of the members of the clan dared to arrange her bedroll without asking.

Josephine dashed from the courtyard, her clipboard in place. "I only just heard we had guests arrive. There was no mention of them prior."

"Looks like we got a drop by from the Dalish," Varric said.

Josephine glanced at the silent aravel, jotted a note down on her never ending list, then turned to me, "Are they friends of yours or an alliance that --"

Like with Cullen I held my hand up to dismiss her words. My jaw throbbed from how hard I ground my teeth, stomping towards the visiting elves. They didn't draw a weapon, but kept watchful eyes upon the uncertain but genial crowd gathering around them. Out of the corner of my eye I spotted Sera trying to climb up Bull for a look. But once she spotted the visitors, she shouted, "Frig, elfy elves. I'm outta here."

I wished I could follow.

The elves huddled together, speaking in our broken and pieced together language. One of them turned around and spotted me, pointing. I didn't bother to acknowledge him, my eyes were all on the owner of the staff. She kept her head bowed, the cowl obscuring her vision. As the buzz around her people changed to excitement, she threw it off and turned those beatific eyes upon me.

_"Da'len!"_ she said, extending her hand towards me the same way I would some visiting dignitary I'd never met before.

I skittered but reached out to her, "Keeper."

She yanked me closer, then pulled me into a stiff hug. The others of the clan folded around us, enveloping me into their circle. The faces, names, and strings between us snapped back into my memory. Despite the awkwardness, a smile bloomed in my heart and I folded, returning the hug to them all. Elven words roared around me so quickly I could barely follow; how I was keeping, if I'd been eating well, that shemlan food must be dreadful, and my opinion on the odor of humans. It must have been unbearable surrounded by so many.

Every time I tried to answer one, another rose, speaking over top each other. Only the Keeper, banging her staff upon the ground could bring total stillness to the conversation. "I have missed you, child," she said, patting my cheek.

"I --"

"Inquisitor?" Josephine snapped me back to my place.

Blinking back a warmness bubbling in my eyes, I broke a few steps from the elves and said. "Right, Josie. This is Keeper Deshanna," I said pointing to the woman, "of clan Lavellan."

Shock reverberated through the crowd like a pebble tossed into a still pond. People passed whispers like candy, the ones at the back probably mishearing that this was another invasion by demons and we all had to wear purple hats to prepare. I risked a glance at Cullen but his face was stone, the templar slapped overtop.

Josephine rebounded first. Picking up the edge of her skirt, she lightly curtsied. _"Andaran atish'an,_ " she said.

"Josephine, that really isn't..." I started, waving my hand to get her to stop. But I already heard the others of my clan snickering at the shemlan's poor pronunciation. One even flapped his ears down to mock her.

Over my shoulder, I said to the man with more wrinkles than sense, " _Len'alas lath'din_ , Moldan."

He laughed at the insult, but dropped his fingers. Josephine, used to being mocked to her face, didn't even blink. Perhaps after the Orlesian Game and growing up with Antivan politics, a few backwater elves mimicking her seemed quaint and adorable.

"Would you introduce us to the rest of your visiting clan?" she asked, pointing her quill at them.

I tipped my head to the one still snickering behind his hand, "This is Moldan, he tells tales that entertain himself and occasionally others if they suffered head trauma." He bowed his head dramatically, savoring the attention, as if that was something new.

"Eira," I said, indicating the other woman, "Apprentice crafter."

"Ah," Eria interrupted, rising up towards me, "no longer apprentice." Josephine scratched something out on her board. She couldn't actually be writing this all down?

I twisted to catch the last one as he threw down his hood and groaned. Of course. She had to bring him. Dejected, I held a hand out to the man scowling from shemlan, "This is Rhodri, a hunter."

"A pleasure to meet you all," Josephine said. She pointed her quill at Cullen, about to introduce them, but Rhodri stampeded overtop her.

"How long must we remain here?"

"Oh, well," Josie stuttered, snagging her balance, "That depends on what brings you here."

Rhodri had been speaking to the Keeper, but he turned back, intrigued by Josephine's impudence. Was he always such a twat?

The Keeper shooed the others away with her staff so she would stand before the might of the Inquisition. It'd have looked a pathetic sight, a woman barely over five feet and weathered from time and life in the forest facing against the mass of us, but she still had that same unbendable will that shaped the world to her whims.

"Word reached us that you conquered your Tevinter foe."

"Ancient magister," I mumbled. She side eyed me, either for interrupting her, or mumbling. Scoldings came about for both growing up.

"Ah," Josie said, grinning, "you came to celebrate. Wonderful!"

"No," the Keeper said, "we came to bring our child home."

 

To be continued...


	2. Decisions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Inquisitor's faced with either staying with the Inquisition and the man she loves, or returning to her clan. She never thought this day would come.

I tried to leave my clan alone to settle themselves in the first available space Josie scrounged up. But every moment I attempted to go, the Keeper found one more minor question for me, one more small problem for me to solve. It was Blackwall of all people who rescued me. Wandering out of his barn, he eyed up the aravel and waved me towards him, awe in that patch of skin between hair. The Keeper supervised the men unpacking a set of tents for those who wouldn't sleep inside the ship, while Eria carted around her far too massive axe trying to find a hunk of wood to whack in twain.

Blackwall didn't even have a chance to ask me a question before she spotted him and shrieked, "Sweet Andruil! There's a badger on his face!"

"Wha?" Blackwall staggered back, shaking his head about as if there must be some other man with a face gnawing badger behind him. Unfortunately, the movement only encouraged Eria's twisted belief and she ran full bore towards him, still clutching her axe. I used the confusion to slip away, though I did pause to make certain no one was seriously injured.

It was Varric I found first, sitting at one of the tables just inside the great hall. He swirled a stein in contemplation. "That's a hell of a thing, eh?"

"Where are the others?" I asked, ignoring his question.

He jerked his head back, "Where do you think?"

I nodded curtly, stepping away, but an idea pulled me back. "Varric, the rumors about this could be detrimental. So..."

Chuckling, he sloshed down his mug and propped a foot up on the chair across, "Boss, you really think anything I can spin will top one of those elf forest ships rolling through Skyhold and threatening to run off with you?"

"I suppose not." This was a disaster no matter what I did. Nodding once more to the dwarf who seemed in no rush to catch his ship now, I trudged through the streams of doors to get to the war room. Why did we need so many of these damn things and insist on always keeping them shut?

While lifting the iron pull upon the door the full weight of the situation caught my chin harder than any shield bash could. What was I going to do? What did I want to do? I'd entertained the idea of returning home through every step of this journey, some days the ache growing almost impossible to bear. When someone grew cross eyed at my dropping an elvish word into conversations, or my still waning table skills sent a snail fork skittering across the floor I dreamed of sailing through the forest in my old aravel. What state was the poor thing even in after so much time? Assuming no small animals chewed through the floor, I could easily patch it up and...

Return to being another hunter in the clan. Was that why I did all this? Just to return to the past? My head collided with the door, softly pushing it inward to revealed the hushed voices of two disturbed advisors. The last remained silent.

"How do we mitigate this?" Leliana asked.

"We can't," Josephine cut back, the worry amplifying her accent and rolling her vowels.

"There must be some solution," Leliana continued.

"This is what we get for propping her up as the face of this institution. Nobles throw their support behind her first and foremost, not us. She's built up the alliances."

"Josie," Leliana scolded, reminding the ambassador to not discount her massive role.

"If we lose her, if she goes back to the Dalish - her clan, we'd probably lose the mages first. There aren't many left in the hold now, but being able to call on the college as a possibility was a boon for other pockets of rebels. Fiona wouldn't trust anyone else's word. She's made as much clear often."

"That doesn't spell the end of the Inquisition," Leliana argued back. I pressed deeper into the door, the carving molding to my cheek.

"It is a rain drop to portend a typhoon. Ferelden is certain to renounce any warm ties. The alliance is shaky enough after Redcliffe, and the crown was not assisted as greatly as Orlais and her civil war. Once one country withdraws support the others will too."

"And we'd just begun inroads with Rivain," Leliana cursed, bringing up her own hard work while everyone was still working off a Corypheus hangover.

"That will not happen," Josie cut in. Scratchings filled out her words as she no doubt etched her plan down while speaking it, "The few templars we have will most likely remain as they have nowhere to go while the chantry rebuilds, but I am uncertain of the other soldiers. Cullen?"

I pressed deeper into the wood to try and hear him. His whispered words fell to the floor compared to the spymaster's bickering tone and the ambassador's commanding one. "I don't know how many would continue to follow if we lost support, especially those from Ferelden. Many come from there and probably wish to return home."

"This is my fault," Leliana said. "Why didn't we see this coming?"

A silence filled the air before Josephine said, "I don't believe any of us wanted to think of it."

"We built all this upon an unknown, an unknown I supported," Leliana cursed, that support of hers fading fast in the face of me no longer dancing to their tune. "Contact Cassandra."

"I've already drawn up one letter, but it's doubtful she'll be able to arrive soon. Her duties could take months, perhaps half a year."

My fingers slipped away from the unfriendly cold of the latch as I sank down to the floor. Like a child, I scooped my legs close to me, hugging them tight. It felt a lifetime ago that I ran out of that room and straight into the snows of the mountains, vowing to never return. To never serve under the shemlans. And all that time they'd been building upon me. If I left and I returned to be with my people, it would shatter the Inquisition after its first steady steps.

Cullen's voice rose above a whisper, anger raw inside his words, "Then we choose a new Inquisitor and forge ahead."

"Commander," Josie said.

"I'm aware it wouldn't be easy, but it is a solution, one better than sitting around waiting for everything to die beneath us. We stopped Corypheus, saved the world, to see it all end now would..." his words faded back to that whisper, "wouldn't be fair."

"Our first step, then, is to contain any rumors before they get off the mountain," Josie said. "As far as everyone is concerned we still have an Inquisitor."

I staggered to my feet, wiping off the dust, and finally pushed open the door. Josephine and Leliana whipped their heads towards me, trying to gauge how much I must have heard. Cullen stood alone, staring out the window. Still, Josephine covered for him by saying my name. I watched his head drop but he didn't turn.

"The aravel is secured for now, though I'm certain they'll need supplies. We don't do well on snowy mountains," I said trying to shrug it off like a joke, but they reared back at my use of 'we.'

"I see," Leliana said. "Is there anything else your people will require?"

Cullen threw back his hands from the window and finally turned around, but he didn't raise his head. Instead, he stomped towards the door, only muttering, "I should check on my men." Winds colder than anything the Frostbacks could manage followed in his wake. I tried to turn to him, but he slipped out, slamming the door behind.

"This has been an interesting and exciting morning," Josephine said, always the diplomat. "My lady, I don't want to push the issue, but what are your plans."

Just an hour earlier I'd been skipping around the hold, anticipating long nights and longer days wrapped up in the arms of a man. A shemlan. It didn't bother me then; not even a trickle of guilt when I'd have to rewind my speech and translate elvish words for him, or I'd remind him that the carving of a god he held was not Ghilinilian. But now, with my clan yards instead of countries away, a dark hole chewed through my innards.

"I can't answer that yet," I said truthfully.

"I understand, it is a big decision and..." her sentence trailed off as she turned to Leliana. Always the big sister was our spymaster, taking Josie under her wing and keeping her safe. The two ganged up on Cullen like he was their baby brother, but in the caring familial way. There were some meetings I'd walk in to find them pages into a discussion about nothing important. I'd never thought of myself as a part of that close banter, but now the family seemed broken. One of its own threatening to leave and strike out on her own.

"Well," Leliana said, breaking the silence, "I'm afraid you'll have to find a new hobby, Josie."

"Leliana!" she cried back, a blush clawing up her cheeks. "Stop!"

Embarrassment grew thicker than elfroot and I had to prod, if only to find something to distract me. "What hobby?"

"Oh, it's nothing Inquisitor, a small way to pass the time," she rubbed up and down her forearm while failing to lie and ended with a giggle. I watched her, waiting for an explanation.

Leliana shook her head, "She was planning your wedding."

"I was not!" Josie shouted, then mumbled to her chest, "I was planning many people's weddings including yours. It's a good way to test ones skills of how well you know the current fashions and trends in each land as well as any cultural significance of..." her words trailed off at the look I gave her. Josie turned and glared at the spymaster, "I hate you."

Leliana chuckled, "No you don't."

"What did you have down for me?" I asked, curiosity driving me to ignore the bronto in the room.

"Oh, well, it's nothing set in stone by any means," she flipped up her papers and thumbed through a pink sheet at the bottom. "I was thinking a dress of silk brocade for you. With an inquisition blade forged just for the day, in everite of course. It seems to be your favorite. The ceremony would take place in Skyhold, in the gardens to limit the number of guests as I fear the amount that would wish to observe could overwhelm us. At twilight, when the sun skirts just over the horizon to illuminate the lattice in our gazebo, setting the air aflame with the light's reflections off the pale yellow leaves. Furs from a snowy white lynx would dot the Commander's shoulders and he'd...um, he'd--" Josie covered over her little fantasy, and smoothed down the papers on top. "It was just an idea."

"Is that how most human bonding rituals go?" I asked. "With dresses, and guests, and sunlit gazebos?"

"Not all," Josie said, a glimmer of her ego poking through. She put in a lot of work on that fantasy of hers. "How does a Dalish wedding work?"

"We don't really have ceremonies, not like that. There's one for the vallaslin, for taking your place in the clan, for birth, and for death, but..." I struggled to find an explanation for the two most refined women I'd ever called friends. "Like, I'm a hunter. So to prove my merit to someone I'd venture out and kill a beast, then present it to whomever I was interested in. There's a bit later with using the hide to make a shield or leather if you choose to commemorate and because it's common sense, but the accepting more or less seals the deal.

"If you were a craftsman you'd make something useful like a pot, or a bow, or repair his aravel. A First would probably compose some convoluted ballad comparing her blue eyes to the fall of the dales."

Josie nodded, smiling at my people's traditions as if they were quaint little things people stuck in the woods got up to. We didn't need to have massive ceremonies to announce our intentions to love this one person. It was a small clan, most knew before the beloved even did, and offering to help with the proposal.

Josephine jotted a few lines on her papers then asked, "And what would Commander Cullen's proposal be? His position?"

I turned away, blinking against a pain behind my eyes, "He wouldn't have one in the clan."

"Oh, well, I..." her awkward words trailed off.

I needed to find him before everything grew beyond approach. Leliana stared through me, as if I had some control over my clan's plans and the Keeper herself. _Somehow that crafty little dalish elf pulled one over on the spymaster and plotted to bring an entire aravel to Skyhold without anyone the wiser! Ah ha! Take that people I entrusted my life with. This is how we give gratitude._ Creators only knew what Cullen was thinking. Barely bothering with an excuse me, I stumbled out of the war room. Let them work through a solution. Between the two of them they could probably shift the entire focus of the Inquisition without anyone making a peep. _Invade Antiva and put Josephine on the throne as both King and Queen? Sure, why not. We can pull it off right after lunch._

Despite Skyhold offering a myriad of hiding places, most employed by that strange man with the endless questions and eye searing garb, I knew where I'd find Cullen. All the doors to his hideaway were closed, not even a soldier shuffled out rubbing his neck from a mountain of orders. Never a good sign. Silence pervaded Skyhold; the birds themselves seemed to be holding their breath waiting to see what would happen next. I thought about knocking, but the threat of his refusal stuck to my core. Instead, I cracked the door open, those traitorous hinges whining to announce me.

He stood beside his bookcase, one of the thinner tomes open in his hands. To anyone passing, it'd appear as if the Commander was merely doing a bit of reading, but I could see the furrow between his shoulders, a clench building in the back of his jaw, and the tight curl of a fist trying to follow the same sentence.

I stepped in and spoke the first daft words to drift to my mind, "It's a good thing the breach is closed or we'd probably have a rage demon clawing through the veil in here and...this isn't really helping, is it."

Cullen glanced towards me, his eyes shrouded. He wore the same mask some mornings, waking in a pool of sweat refusing to speak of what cracked into his skull and haunted him but needing me to be there. Not to tell him it would be all right, but that I was real and I wasn't some demon trick about to vanish in thin air. I couldn't heal him, but I could help. And now...

Instead of snapping the book closed he returned to it, butchering the spine further. I wasn't about to be ignored so easily.

"I had no idea the Keeper would pop up like that. I should have known she'd do something for attention, but taking an aravel across a sea and up the mountains without sending a letter, it's..." still he wouldn't turn to face me, his scar crawling upward in a sneer. "Cullen, please talk to me."

"You didn't refuse her," he said, his hollow words stinging deep. He was right, I didn't call her out. I stammered, and I obfuscated, and I pushed it away, but I didn't tell her no.

"I've faced down Grey Wardens, Magistars, an Empress, made split second decisions that could shape the world," I said, wrapping my arms around myself. "But this is my mother."

He snapped the book closed, sliding it back onto the messy pile of the bookshelf. Unable to face me, he leaned into the bookcase and asked, "What do you intend to do?"

"Don't you mean 'what do I want?'"

Finally, broken amber eyes turned to me. The same heartbreak when he thought he wasn't strong enough to overcome the lyrium burned inside him. "I'm scared of what the answer is."

"Cullen..." I stepped towards him -- wanting to hold him -- but he moved back, for the first time throwing a barrier up between us.

"I told you the truth before, when..." his eyes wandered over his desk. "I'd wanted to be a templar, but after what that life cost me I needed something, anything to fix what I did. But the Inquisition is something other than atonement, it's..." He whipped around, that eternal simmering anger rolling over his sorrow, "That night was not some farce, a ploy to...I didn't want to lose you."

"By all the- I love you. That hasn't changed."

He shook his head, "That isn't what's in question. Do you want to be with me, stay with me?"

And there it was. The easy answer was yes. This morning I'd have laughed at his even asking it again and needing that reassurance I wasn't going to slip through a floorboard. I hadn't thought about returning, not really. How would the clan take me after so much time away? With this magic ripping apart my hand? How could I leave him?

A but hung so evident in the air, it was a wonder Sera didn't doodle all over it. They were my people, my family. The ones who'd taught me, needed me, loved me...

"Cullen," I squeaked as pathetic as a lady's pet nug. Instead of shriveling away from the Herald of Andraste's blubbering, he opened up his arms. I took not a second thought to fall into them, burrowing my head into his shoulders. To think at one point I considered a mouthful of fur off putting. Calm enveloped me as he closed his hands, locking my chest to his. Through the cracks in his armor, I felt his body below, the warmth lightly trembling. Serenity may be impossible to find out there where responsibility reigned, but what if I remained here for all eternity? I know a couple Tevinter mages that could probably make it happen. No decision necessary. Problem solved.

A sob rolled with a laugh at my absurd idea, and Cullen squeezed tighter; perhaps he had the same dream. But duty would always be there. It was the unwelcome relative stopping by during a hunt and sniping your kill just before the final blow.

"This hasn't solved a thing," he said, his head resting upon mine.

"I know."

"I don't want to lose you," he caressed my arms so softly the touch was barely evident through my leathers. "But..." Cullen swallowed down the emotion in his sentence, then continued, "I won't impede you if you must go."

His frail words shattered my own meager resolve. I twisted my arms free from his hold. He released me willingly, a pang of confusion and pain crossing his face, but I caressed his cheek and rose on my toes for a kiss. I don't know why I paused a breath from his, my thumb wiping at a minor tear dribbling down his cheek. He could walk away now, it might be easiest in the end. Creators, I hadn't been strong enough before. Even when he asked me to tell him what I planned for the future, I passed it off back to him. "As if you have to ask." Yes, he did, and I knew it, but I didn't want to admit it.

He scooped me closer, his lips plunging onto mine. My finger migrated up to those curls, wadding them around while my tongue did a bit of exploring on its own. Always the gentler soul, he caressed the back of his hand across my cheek, coolness evaporating with the tears I didn't realized I wept. Melting deeper into him, Cullen's hand climbed higher, digging through my own scattered hair when he paused. His fingers hung over the pointy tips of my ears. That damn reason we could never work. He stepped away, but I slid my hand behind his, holding it tight. I don't know what promise I made, but those shattered and reforged eyes burned into me, accepting it.

Clomping noises outside the door caught our attention. We broke apart, racing to find composure. Varric's voice screamed out behind the still closed door, "And sometimes our INQUISITOR needs to visit with the COMMANDER to CHECK on the state of the TROOPS!"

The dwarf threw open the door and gave a thumbs up at our state of not entanglement. Behind him a surly voice mumbled, "You need not shout, _durgen'len_. I can hear you, not that I care."

"Well, ain't you a ray of sunshine," Varric muttered before glancing at the pair of us still sliding apart. "Ah, here we are, the Inquisitor, just like you demanded."

Rhodri stepped into the threshold, his trademark cowl back in place. Only the reedy nose and flash of long auburn braid poked out of the mounds of green fabric. Within the shadows of the forest it worked for him, but in the bright confines of Skyhold he looked ridiculous.

"Sweet creators," Rhodri cried. " _Lethallan_ , I've been searching all over this..." he pirouetted his hand in thought, "ruin for you."

I felt Cullen clench his fist at the descriptor. "What do you need?" I asked, trying to head off a fight before it broke out.

"The clan is hungry. I assumed you knew some good hunting patterns for the area, unless you forgot all your skills during your time here."

"Skyhold would be more than happy to supply the five of you with food. I'm certain Josephine is working on a banquet right now," I said.

"I think she's got some of those magenta birds from the Arbor Wilds all fried up with the feathers stuffed back up their assess," Varric said, "Very fancy."

But Rhodri scoffed, "I would sooner starve than accept a _shemlan_ handout. We put our trust in them, our reliance, and we might as well slap on the chains ourselves."

"I've been eating their food for over a year," I scowled. He was always pretentious, but I hadn't heard this conservative rhetoric from the man before. Rhodri was more of the 'I'm going to pull off this really amazing kill one day that'll somehow win our people land and I'll be a great hero' pomp. Perhaps my own rise in the echelons cut deeper than I expected.

He smiled below that hood, a shimmer of white in the shadows, "And you worked for it, yes? Doing their dirty work, as elves always do. But I will not be beholden to this whatever it is."

I slipped my hands behind me so I could claw at Cullen's desk to keep from screaming that his very being here took up Inquisition resources. The halla dined upon our hay, they rested in our grass safe behind our walls. But why bother. There was no changing a tusk's spots.

"Fine," I said, "I'll take you hunting myself."

"I will accompany you," Cullen said. I twisted away from the desk, but he didn't look at me. He was far too focused on that cocky Dalish elf adjusting the belt crossing his chest. Oh for all the, when did he start wearing that? It made him look like an absolute twat.

"A _shemlan_ hunting with the Dalish? That should prove most interesting, assuming you can keep up," Rhodri said, tipping his head towards Cullen's knees.

"I'll do my best," Cullen bit back.

"I think I'll come as well," Varric said, rubbing his hands.

"Are you serious, Varric? Hunting involves outdoors and walking in the outdoors. I thought you hated that stuff," at this point I wanted everyone to stop volunteering to come along. The sooner I got Rhodri some small mountain ram and drug the carcass back to the clan, the quicker I could try and find a solution to all this.

But the storyteller shrugged, "A chance to hunt with the fabled Dalish -- that isn't just picking marigolds out of the Viscount's garden. Who could turn that down? Think of the research. I could add some real depth to that Dalish elf and secret human prince serial I've got started."

Rhodri struck a pose, an honest to Elgernon pose, in the doorway. Some days I could understand why so many other elves couldn't stand us. "Well, _Lethallan_ , before we lose the light," he said, smug thick in his throat.

I glanced towards Cullen, the man I trusted to lead thousands of people to battle and himself rip through abominations by the dozens but I'd never seen take down so much as a nug. He fiddled with his scabbard, tightening the loops as if that would cut down on the noise a full set of armor stomping through the snow would create.

"Fine," I gave in, "let's go hunting."

 

_To Be Continued..._

* * *


	3. Hunting

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Inquisitor is pulled into hunting with a member of her old clan while Cullen and Varric grumble beside. But things don't go according to plan when an unexpected enemy pops up.

Silence, colder than that first morning step from bed to stone floor, dampened the air around me. Twists of snow rolled atop the never ending drifts. My coat snagged in a blast of frigid air, tossing the hem back dramatically and tightening the knot upon my neck. I yanked it down, along with the bow strung across my shoulder. Rhodri sniffed again, his head even more burrowed inside the cloak's hood. He'd snorted the air every few meters away from Skyhold before pointing in a random direction, as if elves could smell a ram over top the snow instead of spotting the obvious footprints. Even Cullen picked up on the prints scampering where the ram pawed through the endless snows for a scrap of untouched tree bark, then doubled back down the mountain. Varric chuckled at Rhodri's act, unimpressed by the fellow charlatan.  
  
Rhodri twisted to me, always an arm's length away, "We are more likely to spook the prey in such a number."  
  
I didn't know what he really wanted dragging me out in the woods for a 'hunt,' but he was right about this. "Tip the arrow," I agreed, getting a nod from him. "With a half start of the fletching to envelop."  
  
Those blue vitriol eyes tried to crack through my armor, "A wise plan. It seems you haven't forgotten all your skills."  
  
I snorted at that, "As if I wasn't the one to teach you how to thread the shaft." I directed my voice behind me, "Right, that should work or is it too great a distance for you two?"   
  
"Um," Varric's wobbling voice echoed through the imposing cliffs. We both turned back to watch the dwarf struggling with snow rising past his thighs. Cullen marched beside him, fighting a battle against his armor weighing him deeper into the flimsy ground than either lightly clad elf. At least the fur on his shoulders should keep him warm. Even my overcoat wasn't enough; my skin burning below the thin leather.  
  
"Not that I want to complain or anything," Varric said slowly lifting his legs high to try and stomp down upon snow waist high. "Been a great trip freezing every bit of me off in the snow so far, but what the shit were you two talking about?"  
  
"I'm sorry." More than the burn of the wind lit up my cheeks. I forgot I was 'talking elfy' again. "It's an old hunting pattern. Rhodri and I will scout ahead, trying to flank the ram, while you two take up the rear to scare it towards us."  
  
"Why not have one of us come with you?" Cullen asked me. The cold brought a brighter blush to his cheeks than anything I could manage, but his lips hung down, pale from the pressure. He'd worn a queer look from the moment we set out. I'd seen the Commander in almost every emotional stage imaginable, from heartbreak and sorrow to joy and another kind of joy not to mention in polite company. But now, with his breath puffing through his nose, and his eyes drawing a line across Rhodri I wondered if this wasn't the first I'd seen of jealousy.   
  
He was left to trail behind with the grumbling dwarf while I flitted lightly through the snow, speaking in code with one of the elves who came to whisk me away. The tint of green was not without merit. I stammered, stepping towards him to answer his question, but, in a rare move, Rhodri spoke directly to him.  
  
"Your mass would drag us down, spoiling the snow and obliterating any tracks we might need to follow."  
  
"Excuse me?" Cullen shot back.  
  
But Rhodri only sighed emphatically, spinning away as if he had no more reason to speak to the shemlan. I glared at him, but had to admit the truth, "It's the jangle of the armor...your heavier breathing would serve better to push the ram towards us. We'll hunt out an outcropping to try and line up a shot, then signal you to drive it towards the spot."  
  
"Why didn't you say that before?" Cullen said, a pout trembling in his bottom lip. He hated being out here. Then again, in his past life when going hunting the prey were mages.   
  
"I..." It wasn't something simple to explain. The tongue slipped back so easily to me, not just speaking elvhen but sharing the shorthand commands, old references, and half formed thoughts as speech. Not even conversing with another dalish was the same as working with a member of your old hunting party. It was like slipping on an old glove, perhaps one I'd outgrown, but with a nostalgic fit.  
  
Struggling to come up with an explanation, it was Rhodri who spun around to tell him, "She already did." Cullen's teeth ground so loud, the noise carried above the crying winds.   
  
"You're gonna head all the way up there?" Varric asked, patting Bianca and pointing her towards the cliffs ringing above our heads. Creators only knew how the Marcher born dwarf could stand the unimpeded winds ruffling his chest hair. Did he ever button that thing?  
  
"No, we have other resources," I said. Rhodri grinned from my careful words. "We will not be far. When we give the signal, drive the ram towards that hollow beside the stand of trees."  
  
Varric patted the butt of Bianca a few more times, but accepted his fate of walking through more snow in the name of research. It was Cullen who fiddled with the hilt of his sword, the eyes burning a warmth deep inside me.   
  
"Be careful," he said, that brown butter voice dropping to a whisper. I smiled imperceptibly, and closed my eyes. Cullen rose back up, his voice in full range, "Inquisitor." As if tacking that on was enough. But Rhodri either didn't catch on or did not care; he already moved towards the copse, parting the snows faster than before.  
  
Shrugging once more to my men, I chased after him, still noting the ram tracks in the snow. A few steps behind me, I heard Varric scoff. "Did we just get left behind for being too fat?"  
  
"I am not," Cullen said indignant.  
  
"Are you sure about that, Curly? You seem to be licking up plates of those butter treats Ruffles gets for you."  
  
I missed Cullen's response, his no doubt infuriated growl drifting away upon the wind. The mountain was in no mood to play nice today, the sun blanketed behind an angry nest of clouds, the wind howling through the rocks. It pierced up to a shattering whine the nearer we drew, my fingers working away from the warm wad of bear fur across my midsection up to my head to protect my ears. Rhodri was no better prepared for this, his proud stance stumbling in the shifting snow. His boots slipped upon the sheets of ice below, careening his face towards the ground. He pinwheeled his arms, trying to maintain a balance. It was a shame Varric missed it all. Still, letting ones hunting partner fall flat on their ass was poor manners, so I reached a hand out to anchor him. He grabbed tight, twisting to face me until his body slammed into my side. But I was moored to the ground, as unbendable as the mountain. Rhodri only lightly bounced against me.  
  
In the manic paddling, his cowl slid off, revealing the green vallaslin etched across his forehead and down his cheeks. They radiated like a fade rift against the white pallor the cold pulled to his face. Perhaps that was why we stayed in forests and out of the snow. Hard to remain in camouflage when nature spotlighted your face for you.  
  
Releasing my hand, he slicked back his hair and tried to compose himself by adjusting that stupid shoulder harness. "Not even a thank you?" I said.  
  
His eyes tried to bore into mine, but I'd seen their tricks a hundred times before and thickened the callous to them. "Yes, thank you. Does this mean I am indebted to the Inquisition?"  
  
"First one's free," I said.  
  
"How quaint," he jerked his head towards the left where the snow indented near his own flailing. "Fresh tracks?"  
  
Dropping to a squat, my thighs straining against the tug of the leather, I inspected the twist of the prints. To the right, the same jolly hop of the ram was still evident, though parts were obliterated by Rhodri's flailing. This was different, larger than the ram but partially covered, as if the animal crossed before the winds rose. But doubt nibbled at my mind. Why did that seem wrong?  
  
"You did not speak to the Keeper." Rhodri's voice whipped back along with his cloak, posing in the wind.  
  
I rose, patting the snow off my knees before it melted and then froze into ice. "She seemed busy at the moment and not in the mood."  
  
He rolled his eyes towards me, "You know how she is."  
  
"Yes," I left the 'better than you' unsaid, "which is why I didn't bother."  
  
"You should have," Rhodri continued. He tested his footing in the snow, and -- finding purchase -- continued to trudge towards the trees. I followed behind, but my eyes kept drifting back through the snow. More of those odd tracks followed beside, buried in strange depths.  
  
"Cariad's death, it..." his voice faded into the unforgiving embrace of the wind, "it stung the Keeper. It hit all of us, losing a first like that."  
  
Is it possible for a heart to sneer? If so, mine did just that at his implications. _Clearly you were too busy off in the south playing with your little human friends, and forgot your own brother's death. Here, let me remind you how you failed him._ "I mourned him, I still do," I cursed, tramping through the snow, smashing my boot deep through the ice crust. "He was my brother."   
  
"The Keeper thought you would return to us after she sent the note. Even if it was not to stay. But you must have been _entertained_ with your life here..." he held his hand out, encircling the desolate mountaintop, "saving the world."   
  
I wasn't about to tell him the truth, of how close I nearly came to doing just that. Of course, that was why she sent me the letter, in elvish so I'd be certain to read it, and as detached as the ones Josie sends in my name to faceless nobles. To remind me how quickly my place in the clan was dwindling. Every little pinprick was placed to manipulate me into running back to her. But I had a job to do here, and I don't regret the choice I made. In the Skyhold garden, a young vehnedal tree clings to the sparse ground growing stronger under constant care. I may have not been able to be there for my brother's burial, but I could still honor his memory.   
  
"The Keeper needed you, it nearly broke her. If it weren't for that shemlan working with the red crystal monsters..."  
  
I laughed at Rhodri's poor attempts to worm into my heart, "The Keeper never shows weakness, not even to her daughter."  
  
But he paused in his climb and turned to me. An earnestness burned behind that icy glare, "Are you so certain of that?"  
  
"I..." In the distance, a ram bleated against the wind closer than expected. "We should get to the trees."  
  
"As you command, Inquisitor," he sneered, but still obeyed. Massive conifer trees were all that could find purchase upon the mountain tops, their lowest branches nearly six feet tall and skimming just above our heads. Needles clung to the edges but one could avoid them if you knew how to climb. I paused beside a thick tree swaying in the breeze and stared out across the small clearing. Mountains cut off the northwestern edge, the cliff's broken black rock poking free from the snows. There was no way it could escape through the north, the face too sheer for even a ram to climb. Surrounded by trees, the winds dampened down to a soft breeze. Even the sun broke free from its prison to cast a few disjointed rays upon the snow. Despite the picturesque scene, hairs rose upon the back of my neck. More of those odd tracks, even deeper buried than before, dotted the area.  
  
"The ram sounds close," I said, another bleat blasting in the air, this time behind us. Either my men were doing their job, or the ram was as excited to be out here as I was.  
  
"Up we get, or do you need help?" Rhodri asked.  
  
I ignored his offered hand, there were somethings a Dalish never forgot. Shaking my fingers loose, I ran towards the tree, the momentum pushing my feet up the trunk until I could grab onto a lower branch. Muscles underused after a year out of the forest cried in agony but still obeyed my orders, lifting me higher into the trees. Every branch I climbed, I'd pause and wait for Rhodri to catch up. He may be a pain, but he still moved like water across flat stone, the strain of climbing invisible in his innate movements as he landed upon each branch. After checking his balance, he'd smile and encourage me to continue. "I bet you missed this," he said, the grin widening across his cheeks. Now, I realized why the Keeper sent him. _Remind her of what she's capable of, of what she does for us._ I bet my mother even chuckled to herself after saying it, so proud of her little machinations, as if I didn't deal with something ten times more devious when asking Vivienne to pass the salt.  
  
But, he wasn't entirely wrong. Even with a burn shredding in my shoulders, a giddy thrill invigorated my skin with every lift of my body. This was what I trained to do since I was a child, not kill demons or decide the fates of nations. I was dalish; I climbed trees, I hunted game, and I loved it.   
  
Midway up the tree, the winds returned, shaking our narrow foundation and cracking the withered branches. Needles rained down upon my head, stabbing what little exposed flesh, and stuffing into my hair. "I did not miss this part," I muttered. Rhodri rose beside me, his lips pulled tight. He wanted to commiserate but was under orders. This was supposed to be a magical hunt, the easy one where everything goes right and no one falls out of a tree.   
  
We could easily climb higher, but the danger of slipping and snapping a neck grew with each branch further above the ground. He gripped onto a branch prodding off ours to steady himself and squatted beside me. "This should be high enough."  
  
Picking my legs up, I inched off the branch towards the clearing. Little was visible beyond the white swirls of snow. Twisting to the south, I spotted a shadow in shades of tan, its head buried deep as it searched for food. Beyond that, two more waited less than patiently for the signal.  
  
"They're in place," I said, rolling the bow off my shoulder. I reached for an arrow to test my aim, but Rhodri grabbed my fingers and slipped something inside them. Unable to turn around without smacking into him, I brought the arrow forward and noticed the familiar glint of ironbark. It was one of ours. Theirs.   
  
Shaking off the thought as soon as it came, I notched the arrow, my legs dangling off either side of the branch. This wasn't the preferred position for archery if one was fighting in that fancy grand melee Blackwall went on about, but it kept the prey from panicking and leading to an hours long chase through the woods to finish the job.  
  
Holding the bow to the side of the branch, I lined up a shot at a lone log in the middle of the clearing. Rhodri leaned closer, eyeing up my aim. His warm breath cracking the cold sent shivers up my neck, and he said, "I thought I should inform you, I'm with Eria now."  
  
I loosed the arrow, my fingers sweeping back and up my ear. It stuck a few feet below the log, burrowing into the snow like a crazed shrew. Mentally adjusting for the wind, I reached for another arrow, this one specially designed by Dagna. A few breaths passed before I responded to Rhodri's need for attention, "Good for you. May you have many pretentious and neurotic children together."  
  
My lack of a reaction flew over his inflated ego. "The Keeper wanted it to remain a secret for fear you may consider it another reason to not return, but in the interest of fairness..."  
  
Scoffing, I slackened my draw and tried to look over my shoulder at the man pressed close to my back. "Please. I was the one who ended things. Many many years ago, I might add." The bowstring pressed deep against the side of my nose as I aimed towards the sky, the arrowhead humming with an energy only our arcanist understood. Releasing it, the arrow skimmed high above the skyline then burst into a flare of blue and green lights. It was certainly enough to catch the attention of Cullen and Varric, as well as anyone in Skyhold staring off the battlements.   
  
Rhodri gripped onto my arm, steadying me as I brought my quiver into easier reach. "We both ended it, a mutual decision."  
  
I rolled my eyes at his rewriting of history. Youthful indiscretion is a fancy way of saying I was a bloody moron. But I wised up, just as the Keeper began to not so subtly ask if I intended to bond with someone soon. Dissolutions tend to cause chaos in the clan, leading one or both in the relationship to leave, but Rhodri maintained his illusion that he had no more use for me and was content to hunt with a second group. I was happy to let him. Not that it didn't take him more than a month to start sniffing around other women at the meeting of the clans.  
  
"They're moving," I said, pointing towards the advance of my people. A few cries drifted on the wind from them, most intelligible, but I swear I heard Cullen shout, "Move or I shall strike you down myself!" Whether it was the threat he saved for obstinate soldiers or the huffing from Varric, the ram twisted about, running right to our trap.  
  
"I only wished to tell you," Rhodri continued, unable to let anything go, "so things would not grow more awkward."  
  
Yanking out another arrow, I slipped my bow into place - first watching the ram's movements with my eye, then down the tip of the arrow. "Why would I care?"  
  
The ram skittered in the snow, its breath streaming behind it. I spotted the flash of a blonde head waving his arms and giving chase. A few paces behind, the lower strawberry blonde head jumped up and down, waving his crossbow to threaten the animal. It wasn't the most well choreographed plan, but it drove the ram deeper into my sights. I trailed it, my eye sighting down the shaft and leaving a gap to adjust for the wind.   
  
"As the Keeper's First, it'd be your job to teach our children."  
  
"What?!" My grip slipped, the arrow flitting through the air. It bounced beside the ram's hooves, the animal glancing around confused from the kick of snow. Beside me, I heard Rhodri click his tongue at my miss as if he wasn't the cause. Sneering, I notched another arrow, aiming for the ram. In the distance, the sounds of Cullen and Varric still whooping it up drew closer, but I ignored it. I wasn't about to let the clan starve just because my mother thought she could throw my entire life out of balance at her whims.  
  
My fingers dug tighter to the bow, twisting my arm downward. Eyeing down the shaft, I watched the ram sniffing towards the human and dwarf racing towards it. Just one step to the right. One more. Holding my breath, I rolled my shoulders back, and a massive paw smashed into the ram's skull. It shrieked, but the bear roared back - larger than a great bear, it's fur as white as the snow. _How did we miss it?_ Rhodri whistled at the sight of the predator at work, bouncing the ram between its massive front arms and chomping down upon that no longer bleating throat.  
  
 _Oh no!_ Still holding the arrow taut, I whipped to my right where Cullen and Varric were still running towards the now eviscerated ram and a massive bear. They'd never hear my warning in time. Turning back, I finally released the arrow. It wobbled in the wind, but stuck into the bear's flank. Screaming from the indignity, the bear rose up in rage then brought a massive paw down with such force the ram's skull shattered. Brains oozed across the bloody snow.   
  
"We have to stop them!" I shouted, firing off another arrow to distract the bear. But Rhodri was already ahead of me, scaling down the tree with the speed of a Dalish elf. "Warn the others!" I called to him, pissing off the bear further. He launched off the last branch, his feet running as he hit the snow. But Rhodri didn't head south to bisect with Cullen and Varric, instead he headed north towards the raging bear.  
  
"You... _Fen'Harel ma halam!_ "  I screamed at him, but Rhodri didn't even glance back at me. His eyes lusted for that pelt, a massive prize in the clan and a certain death for him. Damn it, all! Securing my bow across my shoulders, I gripped my fingers onto to the branch and slid my body off it. Before my brain had time to tell me how unwise this was, I let go. The fall lasted only a second before the lower branch caught me, but needles jammed up my backside. Summoning every curse I knew in elvhen, tevinter, and whatever Varric used, I repeated the move, working down the tree fast. Needles and branches shredded at my armor and flesh, while yanking knots of hair clean off my scalp. But that didn't slow me. I wasn't about to let some glory hound kill himself and my people.  
  
Dangling a survivable distance off the ground, I said a prayer to the only god who might be listening. "Mythal, make this work." And dropped. My feet shattered to the ground, reverberating up my legs and through my pelvis, but nothing broke. For once, I didn't feel the frosty snow poking through my toes as I chased towards Cullen and Varric in the distance. Rage and equal parts fear burned inside me warmer than any fire could.  
  
Varric's cheery voice called above the snow, "Think that was enough?"  
  
"I have no idea," Cullen said. They moved with purpose towards the clearing, still eclipsed by a massive outcropping. Once they turned past it, it'd be a face full of bear. To my left, I caught the glint of Rhodri's daggers sliding out. He ran towards the bear, no plan in mind. The man thought if he simply believed in himself enough somehow it'd all work out. But the bears here were nothing like the ones in the north. We grew up chasing small ones that were more likely to run away than challenge you. Here, they'd knock your head off even as their intestines lay bleeding across the ground.  
  
"Bear!" I screamed, waving my arms to get Cullen's attention. But he was absorbed in his own world, staring straight ahead.  
  
Luckily, Varric caught my pathetic attempts and pointed towards me, drawing Cullen's gaze. Shock widened his eyes, probably from the needles still shedding off me as I ran towards them. "What's up, boss? Is dinner caught? I am not helping to drag that thing back," Varric called joyfully.  
  
I whipped my head back and forth in rage and shouted, "There's a bear!"  
  
That changed their stance. Cullen's half hearted fiddling switched to a tight grip, unsheathing his sword. "Where is it?" he called to me.  
  
A stitch from falling out of the tree finally chewed its way through my side. My legs stumbled, smacking into the snow, but I kept from planting chin first into the ground. When I looked up, Cullen was racing towards me. I held my hand out to stop him. "No time," I said, kneading my side, "Rhodri's with the bear."  
  
"Is he trying to kill himself?" Varric asked, sliding back the winch on Bianca and slotting in his bolts. At least they weren't unprepared now.  
  
"Inquisitor?" Cullen asked, the overwhelming concern in his voice making the use of my title pointless.  
  
"I'm good. Come on, we have to save him," I shouted, unsheathing my own daggers. Cullen nodded, any animosity with the dalish buried when there was danger in the air. Slipping his shield in place, he jumped ahead of Varric, both of them running towards the bear.   
  
I staggered for a moment in the snow, working off more than the knot in my side, when the bear's roar shattered the cold air, kicking snow off the treetops. Summoning up the last of my energy, I rose up to pursue Rhodri. "I will never hear the end of it from the Keeper if I get someone killed on a hunting trip."  
  
As I rounded the turn, the last to the fight, I was surprised to find Rhodri still in one piece. He was handling himself well, keeping out of reach of the bear's paws, and working cuts along the flank. Varric shouted something pithy I couldn't hear through the pounding in my ears, and unleashed the torrent of Bianca upon it. The bear turned away from the meal digging into its flesh to roar at the snack now pelting it in the face. Cullen used that moment to, of all things, smash the bear in the nose with his shield. Blessed creators, we need to have a talk later about how to deal with wildlife.  
  
The move seemed to confuse the bear as much as me. It staggered back, the back foot slipping on the uneven ground and dragging the entire mass down. "Yes!" Rhodri cried, "We almost have her!"  
  
Cullen growled, but swung his sword wide, enraging the bear but not doing much damage. He was too busy avoiding her paw swatting at the menace in her face, while Rhodri and Varric continued to chip away.   
  
On a breath, the western winds shifted and a smell filled my nose. A familiar scent of oil and tanned flesh that did not belong on snowy mountaintops, or near bear caves. _Of course, the tracks! How could I have missed it?_   
  
"Rhodri!" I screamed, trying to get his attention, but he only glanced at me for a moment. His eyes were all for the bear, he couldn't see the air shifting behind him.   
  
I threw my daggers to the ground and yanked up my bow. There wasn't time to properly aim, not even to find a stance. Running on nerves, I notched an arrow, and loosed it right behind Rhodri's shoulder. He ducked, twisting to glare at me, but the scream of pain drew his attention back as a man appeared seemingly from nowhere. His blood dribbled from the arrow wound across the white camouflage, exposing him. Rhodri turned, but not quick enough. Even with an arrow sticking out of his chest, the man drove a dagger into Rhodri.  
  
I began to pull back the bowstring, when that leather scent returned and a warmth radiated from behind me. Without thinking, I drove my elbow back, connecting with something hard, and spun around. Only the man's eyes were exposed out of the white leathers; a cold steel glared upon me, the sword in his hand glinting harder. I ignored them both and yanked my bow across his face. The carved horns slit across his eyes, and he stumbled back. Before he could recover, I kicked him in the knee, downing him to the ground. His sword slipped from fingers trying to stem the blood welling out of his eyes. The blade faded into the snow. Not that he'd have a chance to find it.   
  
Slipping an arrow into the groove, I yanked my arm back to a full draw and planted an Inquisition arrow through his fingers, his eye, and right into the brain. He toppled over, instantly dead.  
  
"Ah shit," Varric shouted beside me, "We got assassins too?! Curly!"  
  
I kicked into the snow, hunting for my daggers and watching the air. Cullen bashed the bear once more in the nose, throwing his weight into it, and rolled off her.   
  
"Varric, protect Rhodri!" I shouted. The assassin stood over the elf, trying to work the barbed arrow through his shoulder. My heart paused at the pile at his feet, but then Rhodri tried to scramble away, his blood staining the ground. Chuckling, honest to Mythal chuckling, the assassin snapped off the shaft of the arrow and tossed it to the side. He reached down and grabbed Rhodri's shoulder, my clansman's screams piercing the air. The assassin rolled his hand back to dislodge a hidden blade and was so focused on his task he missed an ex-templar flying through the air towards him.  
  
Cullen's shield and most of his body shattered into the assassin, both of them tumbling back into the snow. No longer held captive, Rhodri collapsed back to the ground. I began to race towards him, when the snows shifted.   
  
"Varric?"  
  
"Curly's handling that pretty well," he commented on my earlier command, which was accurate. The assassin was no match for the man pummeling him from above. Cullen took the conservative path of striking out only when his prey exhausted itself banging against an impenetrable shield.  
  
"There are more assassins!" I shouted, pointing towards the east. As the beams of sunlight broke through the clouds, their forms faded into view. Three more stalking towards us.  
  
"Today keeps getting better and better," Varric said. "Bianca says hello!" He unleashed the full power of her upon them, causing the assassin's to dodge and weave. But we forgot the other variable in this epic clusterfuck.   
  
Now that no one was smashing in her nose, or digging into her sides, the bear focused on the snack that'd fired upon her face and was currently distracted. I reached behind to my quiver, but my fingers came back empty. Shit!  
  
There was only one option now. Tossing my bow to my right hand, I aimed my left towards the sky and concentrated. Like shredding open an unpleasant package, I willed the veil to part, dragging open a rift just above the assassin's heads. Blasts of hot air burst across the snow as the green tear parted in the sky. Fade energy yanked at the men, dragging pieces of flesh off their bones and yanking them back in place. By the time they figured out what was happening, it was too late -- the assassin's each fell to their knees while the rift picked their skeletons clean.  
  
Only the bear jumped to the side, twisting away from the bite of fade energy. She turned around and raced back to her cave, a small drip of blood following her from both Rhodri and the fade chewing into her sides. The rift I caused popped back to the fade, the veil reasserting itself. Rhodri! I ran towards my fellow Dalish, still face first in the snow.  
  
Flipping him over, I got the reassuring sounds of coughing and incoherent cursing. "Blessed creators," I muttered, dropping down. Blood oozed from a wound in his side. Yanking off my scarf, I matted it up and pushed it into his wound, my fingers burning from the blood's heat. "Rhodri's hurt but alive. Cullen?" I turned, watching him bash his shield against the first assassin's skull.  
  
"Almost done," he said.  
  
"Keep that one alive for questioning," I ordered. His drawn elbow shifted, ready to strike the killing blow. But he twisted his arm back and gave one last smash to the assassin's face with the hilt of his sword. The man dropped to the ground, unable to move.  
  
Varric prodded the still smoking skeletons, "Andraste's ass, I hate it when you do that. It's so fucking creepy."  
  
"Do we know who they are?" I asked. Cullen placed a hand on my shoulder, squeezing it in reassurance. I wanted to reach up and return it, but I was too busy trying to stem Rhodri's blood.   
  
The eternal opportunist, Varric kicked over the one I'd shot through the eye and dug into his pockets. "Nope, nope, nope, ah, here we go!" He unearthed a slip of paper and held it to the light, "Looks like Antivans."  
  
"Wonderful, just what we needed," I sighed. "Is a giant going to fall from the sky next?" Perhaps it was the exhaustion catching up with me, but I turned to Cullen and moaned, "He needs medical attention."  
  
He nodded and passed me his shield. Like a parent picking up a sleeping child, Cullen hoisted Rhodri in his arms. "Let's go quickly," he said and set off towards Skyhold.  
  
I glanced back at the only living captive and rolled my shoulders. "We both grab a foot and drag him?" I suggested to Varric.  
  
The dwarf sighed, but followed suit. We made it nearly a hundred feet from the clearing before he cheerfully said, "We failed to kill a ram but at least we got a crow to make up for it."  
  
  
  
TO BE CONTINUED...


	4. Assassins

"Will he live?"

The surgeon nodded, then turned to a spirit healer washing her fingers, an elven mage with a streak of red hair braided down her back and the sides shaved. I couldn't place her, our ranks still swelling even after closing the breach for good. She hovered over Rhodri, her fingers waving a breath above his too pale vallaslin.

His leathers were shredded and scattered to the stone as my people worked tirelessly to revive him. Candlelight sputtered against the limp chest chewing through ragged breaths, crimson flecks of blood cascading like paint off his shoulder. I didn't say a word, watching both human and elf massage powders into his wound to finally stop the blood, slap a hardening poultice across it, and dribble some wine into Rhodri's paling lips. Someone else grabbed up the Crow Varric and I drug, re-knocked unconscious, then deposited at the gate. Leliana and I were going to have words about that.

"He will require rest," the elven mage said, her eyes focusing back upon me from whatever spirit guided her gifts. "But should recover in time."

"This is a mess," I sighed. My Inquisitor stance broke as the problem shifted from possibly losing a member of my clan to now having to deal with one nearly killed on my watch. Cullen touched my arm, trying to offer his support without crossing a line. His armor was soaked with Rhodri's blood, crimson pooling inside the grooves of the rivets and blooming like a vengeful rose on the drapery above his hip.

"Someone should inform his...your...the other elves," Cullen said. He crinkled his nose, the jowls of his cheeks rising in disgust as he staggered around the proper way to describe the clan. I nodded my head, having practiced the lines for how I'd explain this since we left the clearing. _So, Eria, Rhodri told me you two were an item and then nearly got himself killed by assassins my people missed. Oops_. It was about to go over as well as Sera's chamberpot helmet.

My fingers ran across his chest, smudging up the sticky blood, leaving an imprint of myself in the viscera. "I should speak with Leliana first, and the prisoner."

"Maker," Cullen muttered, massaging the back of his neck, "Crows here? How did we miss that?" I pursed my lips and glanced away, focusing on the pokers still blazing red hot in the fireplace. I had theories burrowing in the back of my mind about that, but he paid me no heed. He was too focused on solving the problem the only way he knew how. "I'll double up patrols cast further off the roads, and we should increase the night shift upon the battlements. They're more likely to notice unexplainable campfires. And perhaps a retinue to follow you when you're passing though..."

"Cullen," I interrupted his stream, "that isn't necessary."

"Assassins got to our door. Near our door. If they'd taken you..."

"They didn't, I'm fine."

His eyes blazed at me, each speck of gold emphasizing the words tumbling behind them. IT'S NOT FINE! But he didn't challenge my authority, not here, though I knew I was certain to get a mindful back in the war room. The thought of him drawing up a plan to barricade our fortress in the mountains while fiddling with his sword like a ten year old child slapping on his father's weapons brought a smile to my lips. Cullen blinked from my change in spirits, confusion crackling into something darker.

I reached to him caressing his face despite the audience a breath away. His eyes rose from the sulk to greet mine. He cupped my hand with his, the smooth leather of the gloves above my fingers contrasting with the prickling scruff on his cheek. "Perhaps I am overstepping my bounds, Inquisitor," he said, the words sliced jagged, "You may not require my services soon." His eyes shut tight with that proclamation, my own heart shattering along with his.

With one hand still pinned to his cheek, I reached my other under his arm, pulling so close his nose bounced against my forehead. The contact drew his attention to me, those amber eyes cracking from more than demons roiling though his memories.

Rising onto my toes, I pressed my forehead into his and whispered, "Ar lath ma."

Cullen shuddered, all our problems wrapped up in that one phrase, but he whispered back, "I love you, too."

"Where is he? You cannot hide one of our own from us?!" My mother's words echoed from the doorway, the teetering wood slammed open with enough force to behead a demon. Cullen's hand dropped away, embarrassment wafting in his wake. Perhaps it was stubbornness or exhaustion, but I clung a moment longer. I didn't want to let go.

"Keeper," I said, alone turning to face my mother. She had a tight grip on Eria, who kept a terrified vigil upon the ceiling as if the rocks were about to crumble on top of her.

My mother paused before me, her staff sparking purple puffs of smoke from the end. It always did that when she was angry. "Word swirls in your hold that something happened out on the snows."

I drew back, exposing Rhodri lying across the bed. "There was an incident," I began, but Eria shrieked and barreled past both of us. For a slip of a thing, she could shatter mountains when having half a mind. Falling to her knees, she picked up Rhodri's slack but very much living hand and covered it in kisses. Cullen inched away from the overt display, shrugging his shoulders in discomfort as emotion warped the air.

My mother gasped at one of her own tattered and broken. She whispered something familiar under her breath, then glared at my shrinking commander, "This is the fault of your Inquisition!"

I intercepted her, "He would not have been involved if you hadn't come here!"

Her sneer barely broke from Cullen but she did shift to me, "This is a discussion for another place, away from the bed of the wounded."

"Fine." It was not an articulate response, but my mother yanked me to the end of my rope and then cut the line. I'd start slamming aravel doors if one was near.

The Keeper pushed me aside with her staff, Cullen gave her a wide berth himself, but I stubbornly remained in place. The bottom of her stick whacked into my shins, reviving a tear of pain I'd forgotten about in the scuffle. I staggered away, blinking from the burn, but she only nodded at me as if I was bowing in deference. Folding her hands, the Keeper edged away both of the healers and placed her own hands across Rhodri's head.

She soothed his forehead while Eria babbled at his hand. The theatrics, while impressive, seemed wasted on the man who nearly got not only himself but the rest of us killed for his own ego. I clicked my fingers against my arm, biting down the accusations rising in my throat. Enumerating them would do nothing, my mother would downplay my words and Eria would blame it on jealousy. Only Cullen caught the sneer curdling my lips, the snap of my unshod toes. He began to reach out to me, but I shook my head no. Turning on my heel, I marched towards the door of our infirmary.

"Where are you going, Inquisitor?" he asked, twisting his head to indicate the dalish problems swarming over the bed.

I pitied the two healers who now had to deal with that mess, but if I didn't get out of that room soon it'd be more than just Rhodri lying across a bed. Cracking open the latch I sneered, "I'm off to see a nightingale about a crow."

 

***

 

Leaning back from the edge of the watery abyss, I eyed up the man piled in a cell. Black and purple bruises burned across his exposed flesh, as if he caught himself in a magical fire. Blood yet dribbled down his nose, a knotted rag stuffed up the nostril to curtail it. He favored his right arm, his wrist dangling in a disturbing angle. And yet, the man was smiling. Bloodied, beaten, and caged, he wore the grin of someone on top of the world. I'd be more enraged if it didn't throw me off kilter every time I spotted it.

Leliana, draped in her shadows, ran a finger down a report. She'd been quietly reading it since I entered, our jailor nowhere to be seen. This was the spymaster's show. The pounding falls of water below thudded with my rising heartbeat as I waited for her to speak. Finally, she looked towards me and said, "He is an assassin."

"So I gathered when he and his friends tried to assassinate me," I said, not hiding the anger in my voice.

She peered up from below her drawn hood, but didn't rise to my emotion, "It is never wise to jump to conclusions. But Varric's assumptions were correct, this man was under contract from the Antivan Crows."

"Is," he interrupted, then spat at the ground, blood curdling the dirt. "Forgive the mess," he apologized, as if a little spittle would bother me more than an attempt on my life.

"Is?" I repeated back, "Someone's rather sure of themselves."

He shrugged, "You've done well, though it doesn't alter the state of the contract."

Moving with a speed that terrified so many Venatori, I slid to the bars to confront the ennui prisoner, yanking him by his filthy grey leathers until his face smashed into iron, but Leliana chuckled. "I'm afraid your information is out of date." She picked up one of the many papers in her watch and passed it over me to the prisoner. He tried to read it with one swollen eye shut, his finger marking the spot.

I flipped around to her, silently asking for an explanation. "We came to an arrangement to remove this contract months ago. Your employer...realized his mistake and paid the renunciation fee."

"Well," the Crow sighed, rolling up the missive and passing it back through the bars, "I fear I have egg on my face." He turned to me and shrugged like this was all some small misunderstanding, "The dangers of working so far from home. They never bother to keep us informed. You know, I nearly missed the last coronation due to clerical error."

"I'm sure that's a real blow," I muttered, the sarcasm thick enough to spackle the walls, but he chuckled.

"It truly is. What's a visit to Antiva City without an opportunity to slide a dagger though a new ruler's kidneys?"

Leliana tipped her head, accepting this madness as commonplace, and bundled up her secret scrolls. I reached out, gripping them and not about to let go. Those blue eyes burned at my insolence. I growled, "You knew assassins were trying to kill me?"

"Of course, I am your spymaster," she said, still holding tight to her letters, not about to let me see her secrets.

"And you did not think to inform me?" anger tinged with a growing headache behind my ears and exhaustion dumped pure rage into my words. A raw state that I shouldn't expose to a dangerous prisoner, but I was tired of playing the game. Tired of pretending to be some mighty power shaking Thedas to its core. Every second was a play, every breath calculated, every decision decided before I dressed for the morning. Was I ever just me anymore? Even as a man I grew up with, cared for, lay bleeding, I still worried how others saw me - kept my mood neutral, and it came as naturally as breathing. Could I even turn it off?

Leliana scoffed at me, her eyes dancing back to the Crow still joyfully listening to us bicker, "We assumed the matter dealt with as soon as it crossed our desk. You were nearing your final attack against Corypheus when we learned of it, and thought to solve it quickly and quietly. Then time slipped away."

"Did you know assassins were on the mountain?" I pressed, a burn growing in my gut.

She squared her shoulders and nodded, "There were a few conflicting reports. Since you were scheduled to visit the chateau with the Commander, I did not think to bother you with them. I am sorry."

"Does, did Cullen know about this?"

"No," Leliana shook her head. A vice grip released from my heart, the burn dissipating and grateful for being wrong. I could stand much, but that level of deceit...and how can I even think him capable of that? It wasn't even his idea in the first place to vacation, but mine. Creators, I'm losing whatever grip I had.

The prisoner rattled his fingers across the bars, drawing my attention, "This Commander, he wouldn't be the man who took me down by any chance?"

"What of it?" I asked, my hackles rising from the inherent threat.

"No harm meant," he said, that cocky smile in place, "just wanted to applaud your taste."

"He nearly killed you. He would have killed you!" I shook my head, exhausted from the lack of sense.

"A strong arm is certainly an asset in these matters," he said.

Despite my anger, I twisted to Leliana and asked, "Are all Crows this mad?"

"Based upon the ones I've met, yes," she chuckled.

"Not to be too much of a bother..." the assassin continued.

"No, I will not introduce you to the Commander," I cut in, my brain reflexing back to numerous trips to Val Royeaux.

"A pity, but that was not to be my question. I am curious what you intend to do with me. For curiosity's sake. I have a small investment in my own future, as it were."

Earlier, I'd have ordered my spymaster to get all the information out of him she could, then finish what Cullen began. But the point seemed futile now. It was all some minor misunderstanding. A misplaced letter, an undotted I. So sorry about that, at least only a few people were killed. In this game of queens and emperors, countries and power, the pawns slipped through the cracks on the board. "I haven't decided," I told him.

"Well, when you do I'd appreciate you telling me. Waiting for death can be rather dull," he quipped.

Waving Leliana to follow, I stepped away from the cell overlooking a cliff dive. On the other side of the massive fall, with the pounding falls drowning our words, it was unlikely for the Crow to overhear us. "That isn't the only contract on my head, is it?"

"Was, Inquisitor. That one was handled."

I glared, "You know what I mean."

She twisted away, her piercing eyes facing the healed sky and not me, "There are others, yes."

"How many?"

"Six."

"Six? Andruil's bow, and you didn't tell me because..."

Leliana whipped back to me, "I'd thought it would not be an issue. Within the walls of Skyhold, my people could keep watch."

"Except I was nearly killed a hundred feet outside the door," I said, waving my hand towards the uncaring mountain.

"I missed something, I am sorry." For a moment a sweetness shimmered below her impenetrable words, the regret of her failing real. But she snapped it shut, burrowing it in a box. "It may be of no consequence if you intend to leave your position and return with your people. I can offer you advice, but the network would break down that far afield."

The choice dangled above my head, reverberating like a flag caught twisting in the wind. But I was tired of people trying to drag me by the hand. They did it once before, chains shackled to my wrists, then by threats against all of thedas. No more. I would decide of my own volition, no one else's. Gritting my teeth I said, "Those contracts are against the Inquisitor. If I am no longer the Inquisitor, then..."

Leliana shook her head, "Four are, but the last two are against you by name. Most are minor houses, nobles rattling against the choice for Orlais' throne, but one is from an order claiming to be the true Templars of Thedas. They call for your head for not only unleashing mages unimpeded upon the world, but the mark on your hand. It is unlikely they would back down even if you disappeared into the woods."

I sagged from her trump card, stumbling into the bars of the empty cell behind me. She spoke not with joy, but a soft sorrow, as if she didn't like it anymore than I did. Leliana continued, "It is a small order for now, fanatics, but without the pressing breach to keep people loyal to us, it could grow to a danger."

"Stay, or go, either way assassins are coming for me?" I summed up, shaking my head.

Leliana tipped her head, "There are pros and cons to either choice, I'm afraid." I tried to pierce through that cold shell, expecting to find more calculations running under our mistress of birds, but she seemed genuinely upset at this entire ordeal.

"Excuse me!" the Crow's voice echoed through the stone. "Will I be given a meal? I only ask because I fear the best I can handle in this state is soup."

"What should I do with him?" Leliana sighed.

I rose to my feet and moved to wipe my face. My hand hung inches from my eyes as a crimson sheen reflected my own broken face. Rhodri's blood - coating my glove - taunted me. It was my fault, even if it wasn't. I was still Inquisitor, every decision ended with me. "Do whatever you want. Kill him, release him, put him to use. He is beyond my concern," I said, stepping towards the door.

"Inquisitor," Leliana said, bowing her head, her sapphire eyes snapping to him.

I paused at the door and whispered, "For now."

 

To Be Continued...


	5. Every Last Moment

Fires blazed beside the lone aravel, its roof creaking in the mountain winds as the sail whipped forlorn in this alien world. Moldan prodded one pyre to coax a few flames free, then shifted to the second, while a few humans watched from the sidelines. One of the merchants folded up her shop while holding a solitary watchful eye on the jolly dalish elf. I shuddered from the glare no one would dare turn upon me anymore, but Moldan wiped it away like a spiderweb. He kept three small sticks jammed in his mouth, and yanked out two to call to me, " _Lethallan_!" The third stick garbled his words, but it seemed important it remain trapped below his tongue.

I stepped into the light of the fire, the warmth failing to reach my face. Moldan glanced up at me, then passed over one of the sticks. I accepted it but sighed. The tinder match, enchanted to strike in any weather, was highly unnecessary. But Moldan waved me towards the final pile of logs. "You already have two fires, what do you need a third for?" I asked.

"Thought Rhodri'd bring back something worth eating, and if not, Eria was scheming up an idea for forging."

"Well, neither are here now," I said, folding my arms and tapping the end of the match against my shoulder.

"Ain't no reason to not be prepared," Moldan said, then waved me towards the logs. Reason ran scarce today, but arguing with the man was about as wise as trusting Rhodri to not accidentally shoot you in the back. Moldan had tented the final logs inside one of our few traveling pits. I fished out a piece of bark, shredded from one of the paper trees native to the north, and snapped the end of the match off. Fire, in the purple hues of magic, jumped from the stick to the kindling. Watching it take for a moment, I breathed upon the bark, then dropped it below the logs.

"Figured I couldn't do it anymore?" I asked, rising as the first of the logs burst into the oranges of fire.

Moldan chuckled, "Course not, who forgets how to light a fire? Just didn't feel like doing it myself."

I shook my head at the poor lie, but was in no mood to challenge it, "As you say."

That was apparently even funnier, the old story teller whacking his knee from such a laugh. "This has been a thing and then some. Whoever thought _da'assan_ would grow up to wear the big britches with shemlan, ordering 'em around on high like some king of theirs?"

"I -- you know that's not how this works."

Moldan's right milky eye rolled to me, "Aye, wanted to make sure you did too."

"Subtle," I sighed. A snap echoed from inside the aravel, as if someone cracked apart a small corner of the veil to harness just enough power to warm a teapot. My brother called it a waste of magic even as he did it himself. For a moment my hand throbbed from the energy draw, the anchor skipping a beat from the fade back to this world, but it faded back to sleep.

Moldan glanced from the sound back to me, "Been in to speak with your _mamae_ , yet?"

"I don't have a mother," I repeated the old mantra, as bitter as ever, "I have a Keeper. We all have a Keeper."

"Sure, sure, should still go and talk to her."

My hand wandered up behind my neck, trying to rub away the worry building behind it, but I froze, a blush rising as I realized where I picked up the habit. Moldan busied himself with his prodding stick, mashing the logs into the pit to kick out higher flames. Summoning a strength I didn't need to face down the ancient magister, I stepped towards the Keeper's aravel.

Before my fist could bang against the door, Moldan spoke, "For what it's worth, _Lethallan_ , the clan did miss you."

"I don't know if that helps or not," I spoke plainly. Moldan only chuckled at my pronouncement and returned to his stirring. Rapping twice upon the door, my mother's commanding tone ordered whoever was beating upon her landship to get inside. Turning the handle carved out of shed halla horn, I slipped open the door.

Smells of the fade hit me square in the jaw, the aroma like rotten meat struck by lightning. The anchor crackled to life before I realized it wasn't a rift; the Keeper was casting one of her more elaborate spells. She stood beside a churning fire of her own, this one contained inside a glass cylinder blazing with sparkling purples and greens. One of many rituals she only shared with my brother.

I waited for her to finish, watching as her sleeves dusted the waning countertop, her knotted fingers dropping a wad of grass into her conjuration. Whatever it was supposed to do either failed or worked as the purple light zapped away to leave behind a charred black husk in the glass.

Finally, she turned to me, wiping her hands across a towel. " _Emm'asha_ , at last you come to speak with me."

I laughed at her choice of words, "It's been a long day."

"Yes," her eyes narrowed and she drew out a knife with a slice of blood across the blade. Whether a threat, reminder, or something she forgot to clean the message failed to reach me. "Rhodri shall not be able to safely travel for a time."

"Here it comes."

But the Keeper chuckled, a disconcerting one, "I know that man, perhaps better than you."

"Creators, I hope not," I muttered under my breath.

She ignored my aside, "He's arrogant, but he's one of ours. You're still one of ours."

"Is that why you're here, then? To claim your property?"

The Keeper moved closer to me, but I threw my arms up across my chest, stopping any attempts on her part. "You're my child. I would never leave you behind."

"Ha, 'your child.' I ceased being that the moment you stopped being First. You were rather insistent upon it, in fact. 'Congratulations, you have something greater than a mother. You have a Keeper now,'" I repeated the words burned into my brain. At eleven years old, I lost my mother not to disease or blade, but promotion. She couldn't afford to show favoritism, not when so many in the clan depended upon her. So, I was banded about to a few of the other couples, or left to my own devices to find my path. I was never certain if my brother was lucky to have magical talents or not. She could obsess over him, needing to train him in not only magic, but the ways of the people. I was free to roam the forest, skinned knees and chipped teeth, knowing there was no one to soothe the scrapes upon my return.

I don't know what I expected from her. Perhaps a confession, an airing of her sins, begging for forgiveness. Even a moment of empathy, to admit that she worried what I'd face so far from home alone from all I'd known, a path she set me upon. Instead, I got a clucking of her tongue as she eyed me up and down in my Inquisition attire and said, "You no longer speak the people's tongue. Have you forgotten?"

" _Garas quenathra?!_ " I sneered, needing to hear her say the truth.

She rocked back at the explosion of elvhen, as if I hadn't explored deeper into our people's history than she could ever dream. Some days fell right on top of it. "I am here for you," the Keeper said, cocking her head, "as I already said."

"I know why you're here. but I don't know what you're up to. Rhodri said you want me to be your First."

Anger snarled across the Keeper's face. "That man can never follow direction."

"Tell me about it. I hope someone's warned Eria."

The snarl wavered for a moment, as if I could draw a laugh from the Keeper, but she bit it down. Folding her arms across her stomach she said, "It is true, da'len."

"That's impossible, Keeper. No, insane. I can't be your First. I don't have any magic." My manic words grew in volume as if shouting could somehow jog her memory. She knew this, she knew the rules better than anyone else here.

I expected her to glare at me, to place her finger to her lips or insist I use my inside voice, but she deflated. Her forehead slid down her face, pocking the flesh below her eyes and dragging out the bags. I watched my proud and vengeful Keeper dissolve into a scared, old woman. The transformation caught in my throat.

"The loss of my...First cut us all deep," her breath shuddered for a moment, but she continued. "We are rudderless without him, without a secure line the clan could fall to chaos. What am I supposed to do?" she asked, her eyes watering.

"There was your second, shouldn't he be first now?"

My mother glared at me, "You know Koldo. Would you entrust him with anything more dangerous than a wooden sword?"

"Even with a wooden sword there's a chance he'll accidentally slice a limb off, somehow." It seemed a cruel curse that some elves touched by magic presented every risk to the clan from demons but couldn't summon even a simple fireball for protection. At the time, no one thought much of Koldo becoming the Second. Cariad showed not just promise in spell casting, but in lore and philosophy, and everyone bloody loved him. The only one more beloved and befriended in the clan was the procurer of balms after we all learned what poison ditchweed looked like.

The Keeper snatched up her staff from its position leaning against the casting table, "This is about more than Koldo's precarious position as First. You may not have been born with magic, but it has found you now."

"What do you speak of?" I asked.

She reached out and pulled open my left hand, uncurling my fingers. "You wrote to me, told me yourself that this is not only of elven design, but a magic from the time of Arlathan. A true piece of elven history embedded in my daughter's hand. No one would argue that that does not give you the rights of First and eventual Keeper."

"You don't understand what this does, what it is," I tried to close my fingers, but she kept them extended, her grip tighter than I remembered.

"Hush, da'len!" the Keeper snapped. "I know more of the lore than you do. I've read the volumes discovered from before the fall of the Dales, spoken to other Keepers who visited ancient ruins, translated forgotten runes etched in --"

"You don't know a thing!" I screamed. The anchor split for a moment in my rage, green light spilling forth. My mother reared back, sensing the fade energy pouring off it. But I snapped my fingers closed, silencing it quickly.

"Don't you dare speak out of turn," she said, a familiar phrase I'd heard growing up, but there was a wariness in her eyes. The mighty Keeper never expected the anchor to hold so much power.

A chuckle rumbled in my throat, soft and only shaking my shoulders. At her pinched look, it grew in strength until I had to reach out to steady myself. With the anchor, I wiped away the bitter joke tearing my eye. "We were wrong, mother. Everything we thought, everything we spoke. It's all wrong."

"What are you...you're incomprehensible," she said, withering from me, but I wasn't about to let this go. I hadn't intended to tell my clan the truth, they wouldn't accept it. Not easily. And in some ways, the truth seemed crueler. To hold ourselves up as the eternal victims for our whole lives only to have it crushed with a single sentence? I'd heard it, seen it with my own eyes but some days even I hardly believed it.

"The elves weren't destroyed by Tevinter, we did it to ourselves."

"That's not possible. How can you know that?" the Keeper scolded me, passing her staff back and forth in her hands.

"Because, I spoke to Mythal." And there it was, the trump card I'd been hiding behind my back ever since first meeting the spirit of a god. My mother could shake off the temple, claim they were flat ears or another crazed Dalish clan lying, but this was something else entirely.

She reached to her forehead to touch the markings of the mother goddess. "I do not understand."

"That's a first," I muttered.

"The gods were all locked away, tricked by the Dread Wolf. How can you speak to one? How can..." she sagged against the counter, using it to steady her body. I faltered and reached out to help, but she waved me away, staring out the window towards Moldan and his fires. After a beat she said, "Do you have proof?"

"If you're asking if I'm sure, yes, I am. The Inquisition is still excavating the temple of Mythal."

The Keeper shuddered, either from the idea of shemlans clawing over our people's history, or that such a place existed without her knowing of it. "Have you told the others? Do they know that...why did she abandon us? Not answer our prayers?"

I reached out, touching my mother's shoulder, "I don't know, she wouldn't give an answer. The gods are...not what we thought. It's all--" I sighed, my own religious crisis still teetering on a ledge. One day it would tip or right itself, but for now it dangled, waiting for a push. "No one in the clan knows. No other dalish either. Only the Inquisition."

She gripped my fingers for a moment, summoning up a strength from them, then rose, her back rigid, "Good, it is an issue that will have to rise within other clans. Be debated and discussed."

Watered down, buried, forgotten so we can keep telling the same lies. I knew exactly how it'd go, which was why I kept the truth to myself. Just hearing about the fall of Arlathan, about elves warring with each other would send the clans into a tizzy. Mythal being in the body of human, even one known to us as the woman of many years, would be utter chaos.

"Regardless," my mother said, drawing my attention back to her, "I require you. The clan requires your services."

I snorted, "I doubt the walls of Wycome provide ample opportunity for many hunters."

A pang shook my mother and for the first time she spoke frankly, " _Da'len_ , I don't know the first thing about running a city. We did not intend it to be permanent, just to assist with saving the flat ears and then moving on. But after so many shemlan were lost, and control was passed to us, it seemed unwise to abandon the opportunity."

"It's been months since you claimed Wycome," I said, "Don't you have a council?"

"I know about aravel repair, halla training, procuring ingredients for poultices. But now all I get are questions regarding taxes, road maintenance. And something called crop rotation is vitally important, apparently. One of us hasn't planted a seed since the fall of the Dales! I am at my wits end with the shemlan merchant," my mother crumbled, folding her face into her hands.

I snickered, remembering my own early days struggling through the first decisions, each choice seeming to come with three consequences. "You will endure. It's what the Dalish do best."

"We will if you come back, become the...oh, what do they call it? Viscount? Princess? Whatever the term is, the position is perfect for you, _emm'asha_. Lead the city."

"What?" I stumbled back. "How, I, why would I?"

"You've led this entire Inquisition from nothing," my mother said, for the first time showing an ounce of respect for it.

"I had help."

"And we will be behind you, as will your old colleagues from this place, I'm certain. All of us working together to build and mold the first true Dalish city to something spectacular."

There it was. It had nothing to do with my becoming First, that was a lie she spun to Rhodri - either to explain her plan or to distract him. She didn't even care about rescuing her daughter from the dirty shemlans that held her prisoner. All she wanted was my power trapped beneathe her grasp, just like that spell she cast inside the glass jar. I'd be the puppet on the throne, while my mother yanked upon the strings.

"What reason could I possibly give to...I can provide far greater assistance here as the Inquisitor."

Hope drained from my mother's eye as she realized I wasn't like the others in the clan. I didn't greedily yearn to build something great for our people, to make a name for myself. I already had. She'd have to try another tactic. "I did not want to believe the rumors, people can speak such horrid and silly lies."

I blinked, shaking my head to find sense from her change in subject, "What rumors?"

"Your soldiers, the ones you sent to help secure the city. They liked to speak of you, how you were getting on, your victories in the south, and your fascination with a commanding officer."

Blood drained from my face, my mouth falling slack. She couldn't be serious...

"Of course, the clan knew it was idle gossip. How could one of ours, the Keeper's child no less, take up with a shemlan?" her eyes bore through my skull, dissecting my brain.

"I don't know what you think you know..."

" _Da'len_ ," my mother said, then patted my cheek as if I was a child caught fighting in the mud just needing a bit of discipline and guidance, "you were never a subtle child. A dalliance far from home is forgivable, but to use it as an excuse to avoid your duty..."

My hand swung up fast, snagging her wrist and yanking it away from me, "So, it's to be blackmail then."

She sighed, unimpressed with my response, "Airs are tense amongst the clan. Many do not like our remaining in the city, they think it's abandoning tradition. Why do you think I brought Rhodri with me?" My eyes flickered out to the campfires, and she read the dark thoughts across my face. Snickering, she said, "What? To torture you with reminders of the past? I am not so cruel. No, I needed to keep a watch upon him. He speaks of plans to rally the clan, to return to the forests and relinquish our first foothold. Tradition is his standard barer, the death of our First his weapon. He is unable to see the opportunities before us. This may have been born out of necessity, but we could turn Wycome into a future for our children. A true home for the Dalish."

"I-" I stepped back, releasing her wrist.

She snaked it under her sleeve and dipped her head, "I've given you much to think upon, and I'm certain you shall come to the proper decision. That clan still loves you, _da'len_. Never forget that."

Unable to summon a response, I cracked open the door, stumbling down the stairs to escape. My mother condescendingly called out, " _Dareth shiral_." 

 

***

 

Only the call of the lone owl nesting in the upper echelons of Skyhold kept me company-- the solitude of night blanketing out all distractions save the thoughts tormenting me. I kicked my feet against my bed, rubbing my hands up and down my thighs repeatedly as if that would pop an answer into my exhausted brain. My bed -- to think, less than a year ago I was horrified of the thing and would often strip off the blanket to sleep on the floor. I feared growing soft to it, abandoning my heritage and turning flat ear from a night in the soft embrace of a mattress. In reality, it slipped grain by grain through my fingers, every decision pulling me further from the people -- even if the choices were something I wanted. I glanced to my closet where a pair of slippers tumbled free, golden threads to mimic my own tattoos embroidered upon the tips. A gift from Leliana, who was shocked at my lack of footwear.

Closing my eyes, I thudded back upon the bed, my legs rising up to my chest as I hugged them tight. What my mother said gnawed at every nerve in my body. She was as wrong as ever, but so infuriatingly right in her wrongness. An opportunity to lead the first Dalish settlement since we lost the Dales... How could anyone turn that down? But did I want it? How was trading one future as a leader for another any better? I dug my fingers into my shins, clawing against the leather boots.

Soft coughing cracked open my eyes, and I sat up to find Cullen standing at the landing. Exhaustion tempered his brow, or perhaps something worse -- the circles under his eyes heavy with shadows. He glanced towards me, and lifted a shoulder, "I wondered if you didn't wish to talk."

Releasing my grip on my legs, I sat up and nodded. "I think I would."

He rose up the stairs, then paused, adjusting his gait beneath himself. It was a small gesture, one most people wouldn't notice, but I picked up on his need to favor the left leg, putting almost all his weight on the right.

"Are you okay?" I asked, sitting up higher and moving to help. "How bad is it?"

He raised a hand, and continued working towards me, "I'm enduring."

"Cullen..."

"My leg's burning. A bit too much today with the bear, the assassin, and..." he left the last part dangling in the air, not wanting to voice the effect my own life had upon his.

I patted the bed beside me, scooting over. He didn't argue, the pain biting deeper than he'd voice, as he crashed beside me. Some days he may not even show signs of lyrium withdrawal, dashing about Skyhold, then others he'd need to spend the day behind his desk, taking it easy under Inquisitor orders. With Corypheus gone I thought he might finally have that chance to rest, not have a thousand worries dangling upon his head. But I had to go and shatter his world apart without thinking.

"Are you all right?" he asked, turning to me.

It was the smallest gesture, but my resolve crumbled, dragging my face with it. Cullen broke as well, shock at causing me pain cracking his weary features. My face thudded into his shoulder, the fur cushioning my fall, and he rocked to the side from the force. Softly, he threaded his fingers through my hair, combing the ends and laying each unknotted section back behind my ear.

"That bad?" he whispered, his voice light but solid.

I grumbled into him, mashing deeper into the fur. Maybe if I kept burrowing I could disappear forever. His fingers stopped and settled upon my shoulder. I leaned up facing down his own exhausted eyes and something twanged inside me. All the worry, the pain, even the tinge of fear winnowed down to anger.

"Oh no, everything's perfect. I've just got a spymaster with a stack of assassin contracts for my head, a political advisor trying to marry me off, and a mother forcing me hand to lead her city. You'd think those last two should be switched around."

"What assassin contracts? I thought Leliana took care of-- Hold a moment. Marriage?" Cullen glanced around the room, as if expecting someone to pop out and declare the whole day had been a massive prank. Not even Sera was that cruel.

But I was too wound up to answer him. Hopping off the bed, I paced back and forth just out of his reach, needing to vent. "Do you know what she did? Why she came here? The Keeper wants me to take over in Wycome. Thinks she can pass me off as her First because of this damn anchor."

I twisted back to him, expecting to see the same look of shock I wore when my mother told me but his eyes were hooded, his lips pulled tight. "That is a sound strategy."

The soft words nearly sent me spinning in shock. Shaking my head, I said, "You can't be serious."

He caught my wandering hand, the left marked with the magic of my people, and tugged to hold me in place. "I don't want you to, I mean if you were thinking of. For your Keeper, given the Dalish lack of governing it is understandable why someone with little..." His eyes slipped closed, and he pinched his nose.

I gripped his fingers, folding my hand into his. The small gesture was enough to revive him, a whisper of a smile flitting across his face. Leaning closer to him, I cupped his cheek, running my thumb across his whiskers, longer than usual and curling upward. "I haven't decided anything."

He nodded his head, then turned up to me, "But you will need to soon."

Sighing, I released my hold on him and continued pacing. "What would you do?"

"I'm not much of an impartial party here," he said, getting a moments chuckle from me. "If I wanted to enact real change, I'd remain where the greatest power is, with the Inquisition. Where I can do the most good."

Such a simple answer, and exactly the reason I opened my heart to him. Even as he stumbled and fell, he still rose anew each day striving to bring more into the world, to make it better. To fix something wrong. But that wasn't everything for me, to spend every moment of my life devoted to saving the world would hollow me. Leave behind nothing of what I once was, but the husk.

"I miss it." My eyes screwed tight, I let slip the truth buried deep in my heart. "Running in the woods, bathing in streams, telling undead stories around the fires. It was so much a part of my life, to trade it for an endless parade of soirées, conclaves, and kissing up to nobles...I, I can't picture myself doing this for the rest of my life."

Silence hung in the air, heavy with tension. Slowly, I opened one eye, then the other. Cullen's hung head didn't look up at me, but he whispered, "I doubt I could either."

"But, what the Keeper's offering isn't a return to the old. It's more of the same here yet on a smaller scale. I wouldn't meet with empresses or dukes, but merchants and guard captains. When this began, I thought I'd close the breach, do my part and leave the rest in the hands of whoever wanted to take over. Return home, pick up my bow, and hunt deer for the clan still traveling through the woods."

"And now?" Cullen asked.

I flared my fingers out, the anchor crackling awake, "This marks me, probably forever. As long as I have it, I'm a target. A danger to those around me from fanatics, assassins, and anyone else with half a mind to challenge the woman who closed the breach."

So many flinched when I broke out the mark, but Cullen only slid his fingers below mine, his thumb caressing my palm. "The Inquisition would not abandon you if you stepped down." I heard the words he dare not speak. Even if I left, trundled back to the Free Marches alone to serve my clan, he'd still do everything in his power to keep me safe. Creators, that stung deeper.

"It isn't just what's good for my people, or Thedas," I said, sitting beside him. Picking up his arm, I leaned my head across his chest, feeling the rise and fall of his breaths against my own. After a few heartbeats they matched in rhythm. "You're a part of my decision too."

"I didn't want to presume," he said cautiously. But his fingers gripped tighter into my arm, pulling me closer.

"Leaving you would..." Would what? In all the day's travails I never once thought what that would mean. To not have that reason to fight harder than I thought possible, knowing I needed to return to him. No longer knowing that when all of Thedas was throwing me against the wall, one man was certain to stand at my side. "Blessed creators," I mumbled into his chest, "this would be so much easier if you were an elf."

Cullen enveloped me, bringing his other arm around to my side. His chin dug into the top of my head, the pressure a welcomed pain. "I have given it some thought, and if your heart was set on returning to Wycome, to your clan, I could go with."

I broke from his hug to stare up into those eyes, so willing to sacrifice for my sake, my happiness. "I wish you could."

He blinked, "I don't understand."

His arms fell slack from my body as I folded my hands together as if in prayer. Hunched over, I melded my fingers against my lips and whispered into them. "I thought you knew, or, no, I should have told you. It would have been fair, better before, long before I...Even if you came to Wycome, even if you found peace and stability serving beside the clan, we could no longer be together."

"I understand the dalish hesitation around humans, but..."

"It isn't, it's so much more complicated than...If I'm with you, if I have children with you, they will be human. Their blood might be half elven but they'd look human, be human in the eyes of the clan. They'd never be accepted. Most dalish who dally with humans are shunned on principle alone."

"Oh," he sat back, staring ahead through the windows overlooking the balcony. Josie worked tirelessly to find a glassmaker who could etch branches in them to remind me of home. "I didn't think about, didn't realize..."

"It's why human-elf relationships are looked upon in such disdain." I paused rethinking the truth of the world, "One of the reasons. In exchange for one pairing, an entire line is snuffed out. No more elven children, our blood washed away. We lose even more of us to an already uncaring world."

Cullen reached over to me, stumbling to find a touchstone. I caught his hand in my own and kissed it. A silly gesture more than a few Orlesians tried on me before I'd flare the anchor and send then scurrying away, but he gulped at the contact. "I don't want to hurt you," he said.

"It's not your fault I fell in love with a human," I said, then smiled, "though you could be a bit less handsome."

He shook his head, "No, I mean while I was in the infirmary with your Keeper and the others, the way they glared at me, I suspect that they overheard..."

"Yes," I interrupted, "she knows about us. Knew before even arriving. Soldiers and loose lips," I said, rising back.

"Wouldn't that cause you to be removed from your people? Wait, which soldiers were gossiping?"

I chose to ignore the last part as I had no idea, though I suspected he'd get to the bottom soon enough, "She needs me, and there's nothing my mother loves more than a good redemption story."

"I see," he said. Our conversation lulled to an uneasy silence, only the hooting of that owl punctuating the air. After a time he turned to me and asked, "I suppose, the real question it comes down to is what do you want?"

"When I was younger, I'd spend days by myself exploring the forest, following old paths, trodding in forgotten ponds, stumbling through broken rocks that were once part of walls or fortresses long claimed by vines."

"All right?" he asked, confused where my mind went.

"One time, when I was sixteen I think, I was chasing a small rabbit. Not very seriously, a half hearted practice. I lined up a shot and the leafy ground gave out below me, sent me tumbling nearly twenty feet onto a stone floor. Broke my ankle, and I had no way to climb back out. There was no choice but to explore the ruins to find an escape. For a week, I dug out caved in sections, drank water dribbling off the stones, found a nest of nugs for food. By the time I finally got out the clan grew worried and sent someone to find me. Even in pain, my ankle tied to my dagger, dehydration setting in, it was a time I look back on and smile about."

"Why are you telling me this?"

I shrugged, the hazy memories of my misspent youth slipping away, "I can never return to that. Everything's changed, for good or ill."

Cullen pulled me to him, planting a kiss on the top of my head. He may not have understood my story, but he captured why I needed to tell it. Hugging me tight once more, he released me and rose from the bed. My questioning eyes followed him, "You have much to decide. I should leave you be for the night."

"Cullen, you're exhausted and in pain. A long walk back isn't helpful for either of those. Stay," I grabbed his hand.

He closed his eyes, his thumb rubbing over mine, but then he shook his head, "I should not persuade your decision. And after the day I don't think, I'm not in shape to..."

I rolled my eyes and said, "You know, you can use beds for just sleeping. Or so Josephine kept insisting after she caught me using the mattress stuffing to cushion armor."

"I don't remember this," Cullen said, shaking his head.

"Back in Haven, she was probably more embarrassed than I was at the time and covered it up." Still clinging tightly to him, my voice dropped, "Please, stay. I doubt I could fall asleep alone."

He sighed, and returned towards me. I shifted aside, giving him room to fall onto the bed. He worked off his boots first, then slowly dropped each piece of armor to a familiar pile beside his side. I took the time to dampen down the lamps, leaving only the embers in the fireplace to cast a whisper of light upon us.Sliding under the blankets, my fingers danced across the warm muscles of his back. Cullen twisted onto his side to face me, and I turned around, cupping against him. His arm at first fell slack beside me, as his breathing slowed to a soft gurgle of sleep sounds. But after a moment, he clutched my stomach, pulling me tight to him.

In the dark thicker than any forgotten ruin, he whispered into my ear, "I don't want to think every moment with you might be the last."

I wrapped my arms around his, always strong and unwavering, "Nor do I."  


 

To Be Continued...


	6. Decision

"I will not listen to you! You have no hold here...Leave me!"

Cullen's whimpers shattered the black air beside my ear. Normally, I'd sleep through most of them; a lifetime in the forest taught me when to wake from a twig crack and when to slumber through an aravel crash. But I'd lain awake most of the night, trying to not roll enough to wake him while I watched the silvery moonlight shift through the open balcony. Every time I tried to not think of my mother, the anchor, the assassins, or the decision weighing upon my heart all my mind could dig up was an old story Cassandra told us. It was early in the Inquisition days, before she came to trust me with more than a bow to fend off demons, while Varric and Solas - both strangers then - huddled beside a fire listening to the night cries of nature.

Cassandra screwed up her shoulders as if she'd been planning this for sometime. With her signature curt tone, she announced to the silent camp, "I am reminded of a tale. There was a scorpion that needed to cross a river, only it could not swim. So it enlisted the aid of a bear...yes, a bear, to help both of them cross. The bear refused at first, concerned of the scorpion's sting, but the scorpion promised that it would not cause harm. Eventually, the bear relented, carrying the scorpion through the river upon its back. But midway through, the scorpion broke its word and stung the bear. Except its stinger could not get through the fur. That seems right. Having walked back its promise, the bear cracked open the scorpion's skeleton and consumed its flesh."

The ragged edges of her tale flapped in the wind, all of us slightly terrified to inform the Seeker about the bits she got wrong. It was Varric of all people who threw a leaf into the fire and said, "Not bad, you should tell the one about the goose that lays sour grapes next."

Goose grapes became our code for an un-winnable situation. A fade rift spitting out three despair demons and a pride one as well: goose grapes, at least until we came running back with a fire mage and a few dozen more soldiers. This whole thing was goose grapes the moment my clan appeared. Go, stay, make a difference here or there. No matter what decision I made, someone got hurt.

My fingers thrummed against the bed, inches beside Cullen's face. In the slivers of moonlight I could see only a trace of his pale skin falling slack to slumber as the nightmare faded to the recesses of his memory. It would return, bringing even more pain with it -- a lifetime left struggling with the horrors blood mages stirred in his mind. Occasionally, after a bad turn I'd catch him staring at me with pain coursing behind his eyes, regret and blame that by being together he'd passed his own curse onto me. There would be long nights and long days where he'd turn inward, anger and pain stewing together behind his brow until the pressure would finally break and he'd return.

I hadn't thought much of the future. There was surviving the breach, closing the breach, surviving Corypheus, gathering allies to stop him, and finally sending that bastard back to whatever cursed beast created him. Every heartbeat was for the moment, I could ill afford to daydream some far flung future when so much rested upon my shoulders. But now...

Cullen snorted, his mouth curling into a sneer, but he didn't return to his Templar days. "Damn it, dwarf!" he cursed - most likely blaming Varric for something. A smile at his impotent frustration curled up from my gut. I ran the lightest touch along his hand digging into the mattress.

"I want to be with you," I whispered. It was unlikely he heard me, but his sneer fell away as sleep whisked him deeper into the fade. "I just don't know how to do it," I sighed, glancing around the blackened room. The moon had moved nearly the entire lengths of the sky; the sun should return soon, and I was unlikely to find a moments rest before.

Giving up on the night long battle, I slid out of bed and rustled through my piles of clothing always wadded at the edge. I began to slide on the leather pants, when I paused. What I needed was solitude, proper solitude, not to have a dozen people watching from just in the distance, waiting so they could pepper me with questions and concerns. Bypassing the leather pajamas, I picked up my armor. The jangle of the mail caused Cullen to twist, his naked body flipping to the other side, but he didn't rise.

After getting properly outfitted, and trying a new coat with a better lining against the cold, I fished through my desk. The quill was blunt, the words blobby stains upon the page, but I left a note telling Cullen where I intended to go and that I should be back soon. Positioning the note on the desk, I rose, tiptoeing towards the landing.

The anchor nipped across my palm like a paper cut. I glanced out the window into the endless mountains. Who knew how many more assassins lurked in the snows of the Frostbacks, best to not go unprepared just in case. Sliding my refilled quiver across my back, I checked on a few of my better daggers, and strung my bow. Now equipped to take on a fade rift, I slipped out of the room leaving the man I loved to slumber alone.

Almost no one stopped me as I worked towards the gate, the pre-dawn hours of morning showing neither the night owls nor the early birds of Skyhold. Only the occasional patrol shifted, their golden helmets bouncing moonlight as they marched. Cullen wasn't kidding about increasing them. I smiled at the one guardsman working the gate, a dwarf named Harry who did not appreciate the jokes. He nodded at me, glancing back at the lack of an entourage in curiosity.

"Just taking a bit of a walk."

"In the middle of the night?" he asked.

"Old elven trick." It was an idiotic excuse, but it got me out of more hot water than one could imagine. Anytime someone caught me, say, foot deep inside the midden hole I'd shrug and say "old elven trick." Nine times out of ten, they'd smile, nod and continue on their way leaving the Inquisitor to figure out if her boot was worth rescuing from the pile of shit.

The walk out of Skyhold bit colder than I remembered, only a smattering of stars making it past the blankets of clouds. But I had the light of the moon to guide me towards the west. For a time, I followed the trail up to our fortress in the mountains. It was more a road now than the ruts in snow dug up by a bereft retinue of souls hoping to find succor after losing Haven. So many people passed across it that snow could no longer cling. Even after a blizzard the carts had to travel, word needed to be sent, and the ground was churned up, melting away the pristine white.

A wind whispered across my skin, softer than the blasts from around the mountains. I curled my cloak closer and turned off the road, heading deeper into the mountains. My boots moved of their own accord, driving me wherever they wished as my mind wandered untethered. If I remained here, in Skyhold, would this be my life? The hero, once savior, surrounded by stark white snows and frozen winds, slowly aging into uselessness? There was much yet to do. Orlais, while not wanting to admit it, remained in tatters from the civil war. Refugees cluttered the roads from both war and rebellion, needing shelter and the possibility of work.

While Cassandra could whip the seat of the Divine into whatever shape she preferred, smaller chantries currently suffered. So many called upon us to find them clerics, even grand ones, after they lost their own at the conclave. When traveling through a minor town in the golden hills of Orlais, a pair of sisters ran towards our banners. Upon discovering the Herald of Andraste herself stood just to their left, they fell to their knees begging me for help. The conclave took everything from their small chantry save the two people left behind to tend it. Now there was no one. They stared at me, tears streaming in their eyes, begging for an answer as if I knew a thing about chantry politics. I hadn't even set foot inside one save the meeting with Dorian. It seemed unlikely demons were a main decor choice for the chantry, but anything was possible when it came to humans.

What can I possibly add to that heartbreak? A friendly hand wave, a smile, a promise that their Maker watches over them while my gods silently fume in their prison. Or worse, they were always with us but never bothered to help. I don't like feeling helpless, my power comes from drawing my fingers across the string and loosing it, not letting my ass fill a creaking seat. If I remained would I be no better than a bowl of fire?

Ah! My naval gazing flooded away when my shoe stuck upon a rock buried in the snow. Strange to find in the middle of nowhere. I glanced around, trying to spot any assassin tracks, but the only footprints were mine into the clearing. No one had disturbed this site in awhile.

Curious, I wiped off the snow around the rock, discovering it had a brother. Two more emerged, then a bundle, until an entire ring circled the snows. Memories stirred in my mind - I reached out to run my fingers across the rock not native to this area. It came from the wild rivers in the north, plucked up because it weighed just enough to be useful without overbearing. How did I forget?

"Fingers trembling; fear, fury, fatigue. String digging into your nose, the grip too tight, liable to snap back and welt."

I whipped around from my crouch to find Cole standing beside the outcropping where I tried to hide from my people what felt another person ago. He didn't tremble in the cold despite the rags for clothes; nothing in our world seemed to touch him save pain.

"Where did you come from?" I asked, rising up, my voice stern. I wanted to be alone.

Cole's massive hat twisted, "Skyhold."

"I mean, how long have you been here?" Sometimes talking to Cole was like trying to wrestle a greased up nug - a game I lost coin on after putting too much faith in Bull and not enough in the nug.

"Since we arrived," he said, prodding into the obsidian rock with the tip of his finger.

"You've been following me," I sighed. Of course he had; compassion went where it was needed even if it wasn't always wanted.

Cole shook his head, then paused and nodded. "I forget which means yes." He pointed to the fire ring, "You were here before, we both were."

My head whipped around to him, "What do you mean we both were?"

"Arms aching, arcing. 'Shem' burned into your brain like your brother's mage fire. You want to hurt them the way they hurt you. But he doesn't fight, flee, force, only accept."

"Cullen," I translated automatically, despite it being only the two of us. My toe kicked into the fire ring, "I don't know why he risked so much on me."

"Roiling rage revolts in rivers of blood. No more. Never again will it guide his hand. Give her peace, a chance, what he needed that no one offered." Cole paused, twisting his head as if hearing a whisper, "Also, he wanted to see you naked."

I laughed at that, "That...okay, that explains some things."

"You wanted to see him naked as well." Despite being alone, a blush crawled up my cheeks. Cole spoke as crisp and plain as the winter winds, the facts immutable to him.

"I, I suppose I did. Still do," I shrugged. It felt good to voice a fact we danced around. Of course everyone knew about the Inquisitor and her commander, but they didn't need to _know_. Even his nights spent under my proper roof were framed as early meetings to soldiers snickering at the lie.

I picked up two of the rocks, weighing them in my hand. They'd seen me through numerous solitary trips into the woods, protecting the fire from bracken and my hair rolling too near. I don't know how I could have forgotten to bring them with me. "I nearly left, I could have left. Down the mountain, into Ferelden, and across the waking sea. It was simple enough, I knew all the steps. But I remained, circled the area outside Skyhold and wasted my head start."

"You needed to be needed."

I twisted up to Cole, but could only see the brim of his hat shielding those raw eyes. It sounded childish, like I wanted to play at being the big hero, but perhaps it was that simple. The anger blended with my heartache as I moved around the mountain not down it, until any thought of humans only brought a blinding headache. All I saw was murders. Even when Cullen stood before me, pleading to give the Inquisition a chance, my heart still sneered. How I managed to move past that in the few days I had, I...

"You," I whispered. Cole turned at the comment, then pointed at himself. "Did you, when you were describing events earlier it was because you were reading my mind, right? That thing you do."

"Yes," Cole said, nodding.

I sighed, "Then you didn't take my pain away."

"Oh no, I did that."

"What?"

He knotted his fingers so tightly, his half gloves met, "Pulse pounding, perpetuating pestilence. _Please._ You stared into the fire, palms pressed in prayer. _Please._ "

"There was a family," I stepped away, glancing towards the churned up road in the distance, "a small boy - a human boy, wandered away from his caravan. I found him snagged in an outcropping he failed to fit through. Wolves circled him, sensing an easy meal but cautious. Dispensing them was easy, and at first the boy was grateful for the rescue. But when I returned him to the caravan..."

Cole took up the story, "Eyes glitter like daggers, muscles tight, weapons drawn. A stranger approaches, not just any stranger but a knife-ear. _What has she done with our child?!_ "

"They didn't see an Inquisitor, only an elf in the garb of those who'd steal children in the night for blood sacrifices or so their stories said. I foolishly thought if I did this one good deed maybe my heart would, I don't know, heal...return. That I could return." I knotted my hair behind my ears - my knife ears. Josephine was good on her word and kept it out of Skyhold as best she could, but even the most determined ambassador in Thedas couldn't wipe out that bred in the bone prejudice.

"' _Please_ ,'" Cole looked up, his ice eyes landing upon me, "' _take this pain from me. I can't function with it and even if they don't want me, they need me. But Cole, you can't tell me you did this. Keep it secret._ '" He paused in his recitation of events and blanched, "Oh, sorry."

I smiled at the machinations of my former self. Of course if Cole told me the truth, that I'd used him to free my heart, to take away the pain of my brother's death instead of dealing with it on my own, I'd have run right back to the clan. Stubborn should have been my last name, not the clan's one. "It's all right," I said, "I probably would have figured it out eventually."

"My words hurt you," he said, my pain reflected back upon him.

"No, mine do. I, I thought I could make this decision of my own volition. Without my mother's or the Inquisition's influence, but I'm already betrayed. How can I know what's right when my own forgiveness of humans came about because of spiritual influence? Your influence?"

Cole blinked, his tattered hair scraping across his eyes, but he never complained about it. Maybe he thought that was normal. He twisted to the sun finally breaking across the pristine landscape. After a beat, he said, "' _Brave?_ ' he asks, trying to bury the tremble in his voice, the fear of losing your approval because of what he is, who he is. You smile, _'It's not easy to abandon tradition and walk your own path.'_ "

I shook my head at my old words spoken to Dorian, "Why did you say that?"

"Because you wanted to hear it," Cole said.

A cruel laugh garbled in my throat, mocking me for thinking things could be so simple. "Why does the future have to be so complicated?" I ask aloud, but the spirit only shrugged. If anyone truly lived in the moment it was a creature of the fade. They only seemed concerned with the future when twisted into demons. Was that a reflection upon those of us outside their world, scheming and plotting to make the future our own and consuming the present to do it? Or the Dalish, my people, clutching tightly to shards of the past unable, no, unwilling to turn to anything new. Was it fear of losing the old ways that stayed their hand or something else? We tried once to rebuild in the Dales, but what if we could again? Not just me, not just my clan, but so many more creating something substantial.

Cole's eyes glittered below his hat, "You've decided."

"Have I?" I looked up where he stared into the sky and saw the ribbon of green highlighted from the first rays of the sun. The scar would always be there from the breach, but it wasn't the end for me. It could be a beginning. "I suppose I have."

A low growl rumbled across the snows emanating from the rocks to the east. I whipped around to face it, sliding off my bow. White moved over top white, until the dawn's light lanced across a black nose snorting the wind. It was the bear, the same one Rhodri nearly got himself killed for. Blood still trickled from the fade wound, unable to heal without a mage's touch.

I glanced at Cole. "Are you ready?"

He unsheathed his daggers and whispered, "Pain, agony splitting up her side. It needs release."

"I'll take that as a yes," I said. By the orange glow of the sun, Cole struck deep into the bear's flank while I unleashed a torrent of arrows upon her.

 

***

 

My arms strained from the pull, trying to drag the makeshift travois up the incline of Skyhold. A few guards offered to help but I shrugged them off. This was something I had to do myself. Cole drifted in and out of view, a green ghost curious to watch but not really there. His work was finished.

The dining hall sat quiet despite the breakfast hour, almost as if someone chased everyone out. Probably the four people currently screaming at each other at the other end of the throne room.

"What have you done with her?" was the first shriek I heard, courtesy of my mother.

"I have done nothing," Cullen cut back, a sneer in his voice. _Elgar'non, why does this have to be so heavy?_ Something popped in my shoulder, hopefully a seam in the tight leathers and not one inside my arm. Gritting my teeth, I redoubled my effort.

"We know what you've _done_ with my daughter," my mother's voice dipped low like the growl of an ogre.

"That wasn't what..." Cullen sighed, "She's her own person."

"Yes, but where did the Inquisit...she go?" Josie interrupted, trying to placate what was the possible beginnings of another war even more violent than the exalted march on the Dales. At least if my mother had anything to say about it.

I managed to get up the landing, a few of the cowed people scattered to the edges looking up at their Inquisitor. They rose to assist, but more screaming from the advisors froze them. Only Varric caught sight of me and smirked before nodding his head at the proceedings. I suspected there was some wager on the line.

"How should I know where she's gone?" Cullen grumbled. Odd for him to keep the note a secret, but who knows what I missed.

"You're her people and you can't even keep track of her? When some murderers lurk right outside the door? And you expect me to leave my child in your hands?" She could lay it on thick when she wanted, I had to give the Keeper that.

"Commander," Leliana said softer than the two at odds.

"What?"

"You were the last to see her," the spymaster tried to politically say 'we know you spent the night together.'

"So..." he reared back, both hands on the hilt of his sword. This must have been going on for some time, the hair standing up on everyone's neck as they screamed circles around each other. Still no one would look up at me working inches across the floor. "What of you, spymaster? Do you know where she's gone? Is that not your job?"

"I was concerned with the assassin," Leliana said.

"Something else you missed," Cullen bit back. He wasn't about to let that one go soon.

Nearly to the big fancy Andraste statues, I released my grip, the travois coming to a halt along with the massive gift stretched across it. Rising my hands to my mouth I shouted, "Would you all stop bickering for a moment!"

"Inquisitor!" Josephine was the first to cry out, "You've returned with...a bear?"

All four of them turned to find me standing astride the massive carcass of the snow bear. It wasn't the most nail biting of fights I'd been in, Cole working his magic in more ways than the daggers it seemed, but after she fell it seemed wrong to leave her to rot forgotten in the snows. By the time we whipped up a travois of wood and rope Cole "found" and got her back to Skyhold it was late morning coming up on noon.

A moment of relief crossed Cullen's face that I hadn't run off in the night and then he wiped at his chin. I mimicked his movement, blotting bear blood off my face and across my palm.

" _Da'len_!" the Keeper shouted, banging her staff into the ground, "I feared the shemlan had done something untoward with you. More untoward," she added, glaring at the commander.

"I took a walk," twisting back to the mound of silent white fur, I added, "and then it got a bit less walkey more stabby. I left a note on my desk." The advisors all looked up as if they could see through the ceiling to my blobby paper on the desk. "You all missed it?"

"No matter," my mother said, "you've returned to us and brought a gift for the clan."

"No."

My mother blinked from my negation and twisted her body back around to face me. She'd already declared what was about to happen and moved to the next stage of her plans, berating the advisors further for some imagined slight. "No?" Her shock at my failure to play along, to fall in line as always, bit deep. Unable to contain itself, my brain jumped straight to rebellion.

"This isn't yours, Keeper nor the clans. This bear is for Commander Cullen," I shouted to her darkening eyes. Josephine squealed for a moment, then buried her face behind her clipboard.

"I, uh, you are? That's very...thank you?" Cullen stuttered, lost in the proclamation I hadn't intended to make. The bear was just something that I didn't wish to waste, but now I wanted to keep it as far from my mother's grasping fingers as possible.

Despite her advanced years, the Keeper rounded upon me faster than most enemies. Her fingers gripped onto my upper arm, trying to pull me to her. Instead of cowed, I focused my glare fully upon her.

"You dare to," she whipped her head back to Cullen, who was trying to dissect Josephine's attempts to hide her massive grin, "with _that_...the clan will not approve of such matters!"

"Sod the clan, mother," I said, leaning into her. She gasped, her fingers breaking free of me. Raising my voice, I tried to command the room, drawing every ear to me as I walked in a circle around the Keeper. "You came here to secure me as your new leader, not for the clan, but Wycome, yes?" I paused just long enough for my mother to glare, but not answer. "But if I accept the position it will not help our people. We don't need another accomplishment for the Inquisitor or the Herald of Andraste." I slowed in my pacing to catch my mother's eye, and tipped my head, my voice sincere. "We need a Dalish one."

"You are one of the people," she said, ignoring the fact she'd practically kicked me out a moment before.

"And if you lead Wycome, rescue it not just for the Dalish but elves, provide succor, turn it into something great, it will show the world that more than just one of us is capable."

For a moment her pride flared, and she muttered to herself, "I never thought myself incapable." Aware of the audience she shouted to me, "What of you? For what reason..." again she side eyed the commander, "for what logical reason could you have to forgo your people?"

"For the same reasons elves with magic leave their clans," I turned on her. She rarely spoke of her own parents beyond a curt word and a mention that heartburn ran in the family. But there was steel when she brought up the choice to leave her clan, to set out for one that needed a mage. It was a source of pain and pride. "Here I can help, here I can change things. The world is still reeling from Corypheus, from the civil war, from rebellion and who knows what else."

"You would give up everything you are for them," my mother said softly, shaking her head.

My steps stumbled and I turned back to her. She deflated from a larger than life adversary to an old woman wound up in threadbare cloth, clucking her tongue at her foolish daughter. " _Ir tel'him_ ," I whispered, drawing her head up. For a moment my mother shook her head, her own pain from a life lived bumping into Shemlans showing. Losing Cadrid would bit deep, a hurt that would never properly set. I understood why she wanted to protect me, but I could handle myself.

She picked up my hands, rubbing the palms like scrubbing away dirt. After a moment, her voice broke, " _Fen'Harel ma ghilana_."

I knew she couldn't understand, couldn't accept I had my own life to live and perhaps, I knew how to go about it. Closing my fingers over hers, I said, " _Ir abelas_."

The Keeper snorted once as if my sorrow was false, but as I clutched her fingers tighter she turned to me, patting my cheek. For a brief moment, my mother returned to me.

"Inquisitor?" It was Leliana who broke us apart, "Does this mean you intend to remain with us?"

I stepped back from my mother -- her fingers clung tight unwilling to let go -- but she couldn't stop the inevitable. "Yes," I said, nodding my head and raising my voice, "Yes, I intend to remain." Applause began behind me from the dwarf standing on top of his chair for a better view and scattered around the hall, a few people waving their hands in joy. I risked a quick glance at Cullen. He had his eyes fixed upon the ground, but a smile twisted up his lips.

After the clapping died down enough, I spoke, "But..."

"But?" Josephine parroted, her quill pausing. Creators, what was she writing down before?

"I need time to myself, time to remember who I am," I turned back to my mother still stunned that she lost, "what I am. On occasion, I would like to, need to spend a week or so in the forests alone. I'd check in so no one would worry," my demands paused as I smiled at Cullen. "But I can't live my life as only a political puppet any longer."

"Understood, Inquisitor," Leliana said curtly, as if I made any greater demands of their time than I'd like an extra ration of biscuits every Tuesday please.

"So this is what is to happen? Your choice?" my mother spat, "You are to play at being Dalish for a few weeks out of the year."

"I am Dalish," I cut back, " as are so many others. Perhaps it's time we re-evaluate what that means."

She twisted her head as if every word I spoke was utter gibberish. Perhaps it was and I'd eventually fall, but I had to try, to change things. If we sat stationary for the rest of time nothing would move. Sighing, the Keeper lifted her hood over her head and turned towards the exit.

"Wait," Cullen called out, "Keeper Deshanna." My mother paused in her steps, but didn't hide the shudder at his use of her name. "I think your clan should take the bear."

That snagged my mother's attention. She twisted around to eye him up, "You would give me that _gift_?!"

"It seems you can make a greater use of it than we could, and..." Cullen said, wilting from two sets of female eyes drilling into him. "Skyhold doesn't require--"

Josephine jumped in, cutting him off, "Commander, you should know that..."

"No, uh, he's right," I said, shaking my head vigorously at the helpful ambassador. "I'm not ready, I mean we're not, uh, Skyhold's not really...we don't need it." My blathering ended in a smile to Josephine shrinking behind her wedding planning and the very lost commander. I paused and smirked, "At least not yet."

"Very well, _shemlan_. I will take the bear as you instructed." She turned to me, her eyes watering. " _Da'len, ma nuvenin_ ," the Keeper shook her head, "I leave you to your fate." Without saying another word, she stepped out of the hall, every whack of her staff against the floor echoing until she vanished.

After counting my breath, I turned back to my advisors who still seemed dumbstruck by the morning's events - probably the entire past two days. The knots in my shoulder's ached if I even thought about them. Leliana bowed her head, "It is good to have you returned, Inquisitor."

"I'm no longer here because of need, or circumstance, or an ancient myth trying to kill us all," I said, breathing deeply. "This time it's by my choice."

"Excellent," Josephine said, still happy even if she couldn't fulfill her wedding dreams. After a moment she pointed to the massive corpse filling the walkway in my throne room. "Should I inquire about workers to clear the bear?"

 

***

 

Three days passed before the clan was able to move on. My mother spent the first two squirreled away in her aravel refusing to speak to anyone. So I spent the time sitting around the fire with Moldan telling him of my better exploits, or letting Bull and the Chargers fill his head with even wilder stories. Eria remained snippy, sitting at Rhodri's healing side, until I introduced her to Dagna. I considered it a successful exchange in unbridled blather until I caught a dark glower from Cullen followed by a series of explosions and Sera rolling across the lawn, her skin coated in soot. At least we never used that room for anything.

On the final night, the Keeper stepped free from her isolation. She tried once more to get me to side with her, to return to my people, but it was half hearted, her voice broken. It often took my mother awhile to accept defeat but when she did, the pressure broke. I let her speak to a few other elves that explored the temple of Mythal's depths, showed her the paintings Solas left behind. She wished she could make a copy of them to study, and I promised I'd get an artist on it and send it to her. We had to have one of those poking around in Skyhold somewhere.

She even shared a meal with me and Cullen. It was a bit like sitting down with Gaspard, Briala, and Celene again - everyone trying to not bite through their silverware through clenched jaws. And, of course, she grumped if I so much as deigned a glance at my commander, but it was a start of sorts. Perhaps, given enough time, she'd come to accept the idea of my happiness if not the means. That was probably the best I could hope for.

I didn't expect to feel a tug as I gave my last goodbyes. Eria was still without eyebrows, but she clutched the tempered bear fur tight in her arms while holding up Rhodri. He'd only glared at the fur he failed to bring in and wished me luck with the "stinking shemlans." It was Moldon we had to scour Skyhold for. Somehow he wound up in the stables with the Chargers, a new tattoo across his face. The Keeper sighed like an exasperated mother, but didn't scold him. I'd kicked the fight all out of her - at least for a few months. As the aravel sailed out of Skyhold for the last time, she pressed her fingers against my hand, drawing an elven phrase upon the palm. Without saying goodbye, she leaped up into the back of the land ship and sailed away with the rest.

Climbing up the steps to my throne room, I ran my fingers across the word and heard her unsaid words in my heart, " _Dareth, da'len_. Be safe, child." It was something, and it was much easier to build on something than starting at nothing.

"Been an exciting few days," Varric said, fiddling with his necklace.

"I'll say. Sorry you missed your earlier boat," I said.

"Forget it. That story teller of yours, he's got some good ones I can fit into my next serial."

I slipped a hand onto my hip, "Are you stealing from my people, _durgen'len_?"

Varric laughed, "Someone's going to, might as well be a friend. I figured I'd catch the boat with your clan, at least see 'em across the sea, keep 'em out of any crazy templar/mage harm's way."

"Thank you, Varric, that's sweet and...shouldn't you be hurrying up to catch them?"

A cruel grin twisted up Varric's face. He held up a hand and said, "Give it a moment..."

Incoherent screams that sounded decidedly Orlesian echoed from outside the hold's walls. These were then followed by the cold but powerful bellow of the Keeper as both circled around each other.

"That'd be the retinue from Lydes Josie's been fretting about," Varric explained. He dipped down, gathering up a bag's strap and dropping it across a shoulder.

"How did you...?" I asked, terrified of the dwarf's power.

"Come now Inquisitor, you never show _all_ your cards." He set off down the stairs towards the screams as Orlesian and Dalish tried to work together to come unstuck. A bit down the ramp he waved a hand at me and shouted, "Don't be a stranger, you hear."

"Never," I called back. Varric smiled, a song humming under his breath as he landed in the courtyard for the last time. I turned away heading into my throne room. A few scholars rushed around, massive piles of scrolls in their hands. They'd made some major discovery within a forgotten translation and required a retinue of soldiers to protect their digging into the muck for a moldy relic. I tipped my head at them, but they were in such a frenzy of excitement most danced past. Life continued on, barely aware of what the Inquisitor nearly threw aside.

I paused at the throne, my fingers running along the arm rests. A seat of power thrown up quickly to solve a problem no one anticipated. It felt strange for me of all people to sit and judge, declaring this and that as if some forest rat had any true power over the shemlan world. Now, it was one I'd chosen to fill. So many decisions yet hung over my head, where I could best help, and in what capacity. The responsibility could one day break me.

"Are you going to sit?"

Yanked away from my thoughts, I caught Cullen strolling towards me. A smirk was on his lips, but there was still a tenderness in his eyes. I'd wounded him, whether I meant to or not.

Shaking my head, I laughed, "No, though be my guest if you'd like to try it out."

He eyed up the chair as if it could sting him, "I'd rather leave it in your capable hands." Picking up said capable hands, he pulled me closer. I knotted my arms around his back and fell into a hug. He followed suit, placing his lips against my forehead. "Are you all right?"

Always concerned about me. Creators, how could it be wrong to love that? To love him? Smiling, I nodded my head, "Yes, for the first time in awhile I feel...free."

"About these forest excursions...?"

"Those are non-negotiable," I said, even while laying my head against his shoulder.

"I know," Cullen sighed, "but I was wondering if it would be permissible, if I could perhaps join you? On occasion."

I leaned back, capturing those amber eyes, "You know it's walking in the woods, sleeping on the ground? Not a brazier or report in sight?"

Cullen snorted, "I am aware. I don't have an allergy to nature. I did grow up on a farm."

Running my fingers along his jaw I whispered, "I wouldn't have it any other way."

"Good." He tipped down, his lips whispering across mine, but I wasn't about to give up easily. My fingers gripped onto the back of his head, pulling him for a deeper kiss. He held tighter to me, that unshakeable resolve returning.

As we broke apart, I grazed his cheek with the back of my fingers, trying to lay down his stubble. "Cullen, I want you to know that if or when I decide I'm no longer of use here, that I want to move on, you'll be included in that decision. I swear."

He paused, his smile falling flat, as if he didn't believe me, but then he closed his eyes and whispered, " _Ma vhenan_."

" _Emma lath_ ," I added, wrapping into him. Who knew what the future truly held. I couldn't have predicted one of the Magisters that walked in the black city would split open the fade and only a mark drilled into my hand on accident could close it. I certainly never saw my heart opening for a shemlan with sunset colored eyes and a comforting arm. Whatever may come at least I knew this time it would be by my choice.

"I was curious," Cullen said, leaning back so he could look me fully in the eye, "what exactly was symbolized by you giving me that bear?"

"Oh," I shouted, jumping out of his arms. He had to see the blush burning up my neck, but I danced around to distract him, "I should go wave goodbye to Varric. Before he leaves forever. Come on!"

Cullen sighed, then laughed as I picked up his hand, pulling him towards the door, "This is your way of saying you don't want to explain. But I shall get it from you one day, I have time."

"As long as we want," I said.

 

 

THE END


End file.
